Kissing Games
by Kiba Wolf
Summary: A one-shot series of fluff for your favorite couples, suggestions welcome! EdWin, LingxLanFan, Royai, OlivierxMiles, and AlMay currently published. Very light T rating for suggestive materials, some description, and language.
1. EdWin I

_**Kissing Games:**_

_First Kiss_

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><p>"Winry, the boys are here to see you," Pinako called up the stairs. Winry jumped up in excitement. It had been <em>months<em> since they visited!

"Ed! Al!" she called happily, stomping down the stairs, but she froze upon reaching the bottom floor. Ed looked at her guiltily and Al tried his best to shrink into a corner of the room—not an easy feat for a suit of armor. Pinako chuckled and left before things got violent.

"H-hey Winry," Ed stuttered after a moment, but she was ignoring him, focused instead on his nonexistent right arm.

"Ed," she growled, slipping her hand in her pocket where she knew her wrench was housed. Her hands grasped the cold, solid metal as her anger rose, threatening to boil over.

"Now Winry," he reasoned, "don't do anything rash! You should be glad we came back to visit after all this time, right?"

Winry made no response, judging instead which part of Ed's body she could target to cause him the most pain.

"W-Winry?" he stuttered, taking a cautious, slow step back. "Come on, you're scaring Al…"

She found it.

Violently chucking the wrench right between Ed's legs she finally exploded. "What did you do to your automail?" Ed went down in a crumpled heap, leaving Al the sole focus of Winry's rage.

"Br-brother?" he asked worriedly, reaching a hand out towards his fallen big brother.

"Explain Al!" Winry snapped, catching his attention once more.

"We-we were fighting," he stuttered. "And Brother jumped in to save one of our friends from the military. He got hurt really bad and broke his automail. We would've come sooner, but he was stuck in the hospital for a while." Looking for all the world like a scared rabbit, Al returned to cowering in his corner, leaving Ed to his fate.

Mechanically, Winry turned her head back towards Ed, who was slowly recovering.

"Is that true Edward?" she asked in a deadly tone. Covering his crotch, Ed nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Ma'am!" he yelped.

Winry continued to stare him down for a long moment, eyes unforgiving. Al was nearly in tears in the corner, slowly trying to inch away and creating a _skritch, skritch_ noise along the way—the only sound in the otherwise deafeningly quiet room. Ed, hands still over his crotch, closed his eyes, not wanting to see the end as it came.

"Well, let's get you fixed up," she sighed at last. Al burst into tears of joy and tore out of the room to find Panako, and Ed gave a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Winry," he said, grinning good-naturedly once more. Winry felt her heart skip a beat at the honest smile. It was rare to see him carry it these days.

"It'll still cost you!" she snapped. "And don't think I've forgotten the fact that you broke it because you were irresponsible!"

"But Winry—!" Ed started to argue, but she cut him off quickly.

"But you did do it to save your friends, so I won't stay mad at you," she conceded. "This time."

"Oh thanks—wait, 'this time'?" Ed stuttered, following behind as she turned and made her way upstairs.

"You heard me, Ed," she answered, her sly smirk hidden from his view. As if she could ever actually stay mad at him. Sure she hated it when he broke his automail—all her hard work!—but it always gave them an excuse to come home, and for now that was enough.

Winry led Ed into her workroom where she had all sorts of accessories laying about in an organized mess. The sight of all the automail in such a small rural home never failed to impress Ed. This place—this last piece of his past that he clung to—was rare, if nothing else. He plopped down in his usual seat and stretched, hearing both metal and bone pop in response.

Meanwhile, Winry had started to look through her various cabinets and drawers. She seemed to be missing that one wrench she always used on Ed's arm and leg. For whatever reason it was, almost literally, the only wrench that agreed with his automail. Odd how tools work like that at times.

"So Winry, what have you been up to?" Ed asked casually, leaning back against the workbench. She didn't bother to turn and face him, too preoccupied looking for the wrench.

"This and that," she answered. "You should know as well as me that it can be slow around here at times."

"True," Ed agreed. "Although, I have to admit I miss it sometimes."

"The peace and quiet?"

"The slow pace."

She turned to look at him curiously, but he wasn't looking in her direction, instead looking down at the floor, a familiar sad look in his eyes. She hated to see him like this. It reminded her, every time, no matter how normal things seemed, they were only normal for a moment. The flash of that grin or the same good-humor he had before everything happened. Then it was back to this guy. This guy she felt she hardly knew, compared to the boy she grew up with.

"Hey, Winry, are you looking for this?" Ed asked, holding up the wrench she had been looking for.

"Oh! Yes!" she hurried over to him when a thought occurred to her. "Hey, wait. When did you get this?"

"H-hey calm down!" he stuttered defensively. "You threw it at me earlier!"

"Oh," was all she said, merrily snatching the wrench away from him, causing him to flinch in the process.

"You never change," he muttered. She turned to lock gazes with him, a fiery look in her eyes.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"N-nothing," he gulped. Satisfied, Winry pulled up a stool and started to work on his automail. His leg would probably need tune-ups, but his arm had been totally smashed in whatever battle they were in. Thank goodness she always thought ahead. Pulling out a spare arm from her specially labeled drawer, she let out a sigh of relief. He was always rushing her to get the stupid thing done as fast as possible that she never achieved the level of craftsmanship she wanted. This way she had plenty of time and could get him in and out faster than ever!

She felt her face fall a bit, lips twisting down in a small frown.

Sure, she didn't have to rush to make him a new piece from scratch, because she didn't want to waste his time, but that meant she spent less and less time with him every time he came to visit.

It was bad enough he almost never came home.

A stain on a piece of what remained of his automail caught her attention, pulling her away from her thoughts. It looked like…

"Ed, is this blood?" she asked, tapping the spot with her finger. Ed brushed her hand away, looking embarrassed.

"Don't touch it if you don't know what it is," he muttered, turning his head away.

"Is it?" she asked again, trying to get him to make eye contact again.

"Yes," he sighed, facing her again. "It's not mine though, so you don't have to worry." Winry frowned again at this. Not his so _she _wouldn't have to worry, but did that mean he did worry over it? Just whose blood was it anyways?

Ed probably didn't realize it, but even when he came to get his automail fixed and hardly talked at all, Winry knew almost the full story of what had happened and where he'd been. His automail told the story. A scratch here or there could just be wear and tear, but the deeper cuts indicated a fight. The stuff stuck in-between the tight spots created by all the bolts and wiring, like the sand that had nearly poured out that one time, told her he had been somewhere sandy, probably a desert. Heat did certain things to automail that cold didn't.

Then again, cold had its own effect. Particularly shrunken bolts that hadn't totally thawed out even after he left. Metal permanently shrunken or expanded from his travels. Sometimes the pieces were jammed, but that was likely just another fight. He fought a lot. Even if he didn't totally obliterate his automail every time, it was still obvious he had been in plenty of fights. Everything about the automail told his story, even when he wasn't willing to. Even the smell of the metal could hold valuable information.

Not that she made a habit of sniffing metal, of course.

"Ow, easy there, Winry," Ed complained, bringing her back to the present.

"Sorry, Ed," she whispered, wondering again where the blood had come from. No, not where, but who. Who had bled on her automail? One of Ed's friends that she knew nearly nothing about or one of his seemingly endless enemies?

"Hey, Winry?" he asked softly, his tone catching her attention.

"What is it?" she asked curiously, looking over into his golden eyes.

"Look I'm really sorry I broke your automail," he explained. "I really tried not to, but it just kind of happened."

"What brought on the sudden attempt at an apology?" she asked, chuckling nervously. This happened almost every single time. Some look or some words or some touch suddenly made fixing his automail way more awkward than it had ever been before. It seemed like it got worse and happened more frequently with every occasion.

"Your eyes," he answered, the honesty in his own eyes too much to take. Blushing, she turned her eyes away, focusing on the automail again.

"What about them?" she asked quietly.

"You just looked so sad," he clarified, sounding a bit embarrassed himself. "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was stupid."

"No, it's okay," she responded, trying her best to totally focus solely on the automail.

They lapsed into silence once more, both feeling the weight of the room on their shoulders, both thinking along the same lines:

_When did this get so awkward?_

For Ed, he assumed he had just missed something, being away from home so much and all. Maybe something had happened here while he was away.

For Winry, she assumed that something on his journey had changed his very presence. Something made him more obvious when he stepped into a room, or at least, she always noticed when he did these days.

"Winry, do you get lonely?" Ed asked quietly, thoughtfully, and surprising her again. She didn't even dare glance in his direction this time, instead focusing on an oddly threaded bolt.

"Well, I have Grandma and Din," she answered with a soft smile. "So, not really. It can be slow, but I wouldn't say it's lonely."

"That's an old lady and a dog," Ed mumbled in annoyance. "It's not the same as people your own age."

"Well you're not much better off I'd imagine," she retorted, taking a peek at him from the corner of her eye. He looked as thoughtful as he sounded, and for a moment, Winry wondered if there was something else on his mind.

"I have Al at least," he came back. "But what about you? I mean, have you found any decent guys or anything?" Winry nearly fell over at the sudden question. That was way out of character for him.

"W-what are you, my father?" she snapped, blushing furiously.

"Well, n-no, but I was just wondering okay!" he yelled, blushing just as much, partially at her reaction and partially in embarrassment for his own words.

"That's a weird thing to wonder about," she said, still blushing, but turning to face him full on now. "What brought that up?"

"Nothing, okay?" he snapped. "Look, just let it go!"

"It's one thing to worry about me, Ed, but seriously what's up with you lately?" she demanded, her patience with his constant leaving finally wearing out and now this odd question on top of it.

"What's up with me?" he echoed, anger scrunching up his face as he glared at the girl next to him. "What's up with you acting so weird around me all the time?"

"I'm not the one asking weird questions!" she rebuked, hands on her hips, returning his glare, blow for blow.

"Yeah and I'm not the one avoiding answering the question!" Ed came back, grinning triumphantly.

"Maybe because it was a stupid question," she growled, but slowly her anger started to recede, hands lowering to her sides. "No, I don't really hang out with anyone our age anymore."

"Winry…?" Ed was about to reach his hand out towards her, but she just lowered her head and started to work on his automail again.

"It's not that big of a deal," she muttered. "I just miss you guys sometimes, and when I try to go out and just enjoy myself I always end up thinking of you." She heard Ed sigh in frustration.

"You shouldn't be like that," he growled. "And it's all our fault, too…" Winry frowned and shook her head.

"It's just me, Ed," she reassured. "I just worry about you guys too much."

"It wouldn't hurt to find some other guy to hang out with, though," Ed restated, blushing again and looking away in case she looked up at him.

"Some other guy?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible. "Or guys?"

"Guy," Ed answered quietly, blushing ever more. Winry dared to look up at him, her own face heating up again. She dropped her hands from his automail, causing him to glance over, catching her eye in the process.

"Why would I find some other guy?" she whispered, eyes locked with his, refusing to look away.

"I just don't understand why you haven't found a guy yet," Ed explained, not willing to be the first to look away, but feeling the tips of his ears go red didn't help matters.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, honestly curious.

"You're really pretty and smart and…" he trailed off, eyes finally dropping. "I just wonder why a girl like you has to be left all alone like this." Winry felt her heart skip a beat, her chest tightening in response to his words. She never used to react so much to Ed. She used to be the one that _didn't _react to him.

"I'm not alone," she answered finally, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I just have to wait for a long time to see my guy, and I don't get to see him very often. That doesn't mean I'm lonely though. Waiting gives me something to do, and I like to think it gives him something to come home to."

"Hmph," Ed grunted. "What a lousy guy, hardly ever showing up and making you wait all the time. Hope he comes around when I'm around; I'll teach him to make you wait around like that."

"You're so stupid Ed," Winry sighed, looking back up at him. He turned to glare at her, his unique look of annoyance all over his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he barked.

"He's you, idiot," she answered, glaring at him, but this time her gaze held less sway.

"Winry…?" he asked, confused. She felt her blush return in full force and fled to her automail work.

"Forget I mentioned it!" she answered quickly, hardly taking a breath. "I mean you don't have to forget because it's true, but you know, not like that, and of course you're like my best friend, and then there's Al to consider and—!"

"Winry!" Ed interrupted, causing her to halt on reflex and look back at him. He had a determined look in his eyes, a familiar look, but she only had a moment to recognize it before he leaned closer to her, closing the small distance between them, and pressed his lips against hers.

Her surprise lasted for a brief moment before she relaxed and leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, wrench still in hand. She felt his one functioning arm reach up and caress her cheek, wiping away tears she didn't know she was shedding.

"It's going to be okay," he mumbled against her lips, pulling back slightly and leaning his head forward so that their foreheads touched. "I'm going to make everything better, and I'm coming back for you as soon as I do."

"Ed, I—," she started to say she loved him, but felt the words die on her lips. They did nothing to convey her emotion, so she leaned forward again, Ed responding easily and gently.

"Winry, what are you doing up there?" Pinako called up the stairs, wondering what in the world could be taking her so long to fix Ed's automail. She knew for a fact that Winry always kept a spare around. It should've just been a simple matter of popping in the new piece.

The sudden noise caused the couple upstairs to jump a mile high, breaking apart and looking anywhere but at each other.

"I'm, uh, fixing Ed's arm," she called back, sweating bullets.

"Hurry up with it!" came the answer. "Otherwise we're eating dinner without you." Winry was about to respond, but Ed beat her to it.

"Go ahead and eat without us; we're going to be a while," he hollered. Winry looked back at him in surprise.

"Ed…?"

"Look, fix my arm so I can actually feel useful," he grouched, refusing to look at her. She rolled her eyes and started to work again, but not before she heard his quiet whisper. "Besides, it's hard to hold you with one arm…"

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><p><strong>AN: **_Thank you so much for reading! Ling Yao and Lan Fan are up next, with Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye after that. If you have a pairing you want me to write a scene for beyond that, leave a review telling me who and I'll make it happen! Heck, I'll even do yaoi in honor of this being my last project before I take a break. Have at it!_


	2. LingLan I

_**Kissing Games:**_

_Lingering Lips_

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><p>Ling Yao and Lan Fan walked along the dusty road as inconspicuously as possible in their foreign clothes. Somewhere, on one of the nearby rooftops, Fu followed them, watching for danger from above. This formation was typical: two guards, one watching ahead and behind, one shadowing in order to react without losing a moment of time. Although, typically Fu was the one close by and Lan Fan was the one watching from a distance.<p>

Lan Fan had actually been the one to request this, but when her grandfather had asked for a reason, she had hidden her face and refused to answer. That gave Fu all the answer he needed, though. He agreed without further discussion, but now being in this new country, they both had to hone their skills from either position.

Fu had sat his granddaughter down and explained how dangerous and important this mission was. He had told her, without sugar-coating, that one or both of them might die in this pursuit. But he also told her that she should be honored because of this danger; it meant that the young lord had put his trust, indeed, his very life in her hands. She must honor that without fail and without any petty emotions blocking her mind.

And so it was she found herself trailing her young lord as close as she could while still keeping a respectful distance. She kept as alert as possible, but the same problem she had encountered when they first started training in this formation persisted. They had only started traveling in this way two years ago, when she was thirteen, but she had assumed it would go away. Instead, it grew worse. If not for all her training then it would be unbearable.

Her eyes, which were supposed to be scanning nearby people and windows, kept wandering back to Young Lord's face.

Her ears, which should be listening for any sign of immanent attack—the twang of a bowstring or whatever it may have been—listened only to the sound of his easy, gentle breathing.

Her nose, which should be inhaling and organizing foreign odors to protect Young Lord's lungs, could only focus on his sweetly intoxicating scent.

Her fingers, which should be at the ready to grab a blade at a moment's notice, could hardly resist the urge to "accidently" brush his hand.

She was—not for the first time—thankful the mask covered her face as she thought about what her tongue would like to do.

"Food!" Ling sang out, suddenly darting away. Resisting the urge to call out to him, especially knowing it wouldn't stop him, she chased after him as he followed his nose to this "food."

"Young Lord, you really shouldn't wander into random shops or take off running like that," she scolded as they made their way into a cool shop leaking delicious smells. "You probably gave Grandfather a heart attack." She was actually a bit relieved that he had left the hot streets; all this black attracted way too much heat at time.

"Don't worry Lan Fan," he answered, chipper as always. "He'll catch up and figure out what happened."

"I've already caught up," a gruff voice answered. The two turned to see Fu standing there, barely containing his annoyance at Ling. He may have to serve under the young lord for the rest of his days and show absolute loyalty to him, but that didn't mean he had to like the boy's little impulsive urges

"Since we're all here, let's get some food!" Ling declared, totally ignoring the annoyance of his two guards. Letting out a simultaneous sigh, Lan Fan and Fu followed as the young lord led them to a table and ordered far too much food. They certainly hoped he would become the emperor—not for obvious reasons though. The only way he'd be able to eat like this at home was if he lived in the palace.

Ling could certainly eat when he wanted to, and he demonstrated the capability to consume far more than seemed physically possible once again. When the bill came around after he _finally _finished eating, his face paled a bit.

"Uh, Fu, why don't you foot this one?" he asked, laughing nervously and pushing the paper into the old man's hands.

"Why should I?" Fu muttered, not exactly towards Ling. "I only ate a single bowl of cold rice." His eyes scanned the receipt for a moment as Lan Fan watched his face drain of color in a similar manner to Young Lord's.

"So what do you say Fu?" Ling asked nervously.

"I can't pay it," Fu deadpanned.

"What?"

"We don't have enough money, Young Lord," Fu hissed, lowering his voice lest one of the servers overhear. "What shall we do?" Ling's brow furrowed in deep thought, and for a moment—just a moment—Lan Fan thought he might actually come up with a decent plan for once.

"Okay," he declared, nodding in confidence. "I've got it."

"You do?" Fu asked, genuinely surprised.

"Fu, you stay here and work off the bill," he commanded, crossing his arms and nodding in self-satisfaction. If Fu hadn't been trained since birth to be a loyal guard, he would've killed Ling right there and then.

"Fine, but you two have to go to the hotel next door and secure a room," Fu compromised, slowly standing up. No doubt dreading the work he was about to endure. Guarding Ling, fighting, risking his life, all of that was easy. Household chores were not for bodyguards though.

"Can't we walk around and check the town out?" Ling asked hopefully—he hated being cooped up too long.

"No," Fu answered, leaving no room for argument. "You two will stay there and you won't leave until I finish up here." He turned to his granddaughter, who had been watching the exchange with mild interest. "Stay in the room with him. Don't let him leave and let no one in. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Lan Fan answered, nodding once. She had already secured her mask over her face after she had finished eating, so neither of the two men were able to see her face flush at the thought of staying in a room with the young lord, just the two of them.

"And Lan Fan," Fu warned, glancing over at Ling who was currently whittling down the server, trying to convince him to let Fu work off the bill. "Please, try your best." Lan Fan made no remark, only able to see the sympathy in her grandfather's eyes for a moment before he turned away. Sadly, there were few secrets between the two; they could hardly afford to hide things from each other.

"Okay, get going Young Lord," Fu commanded, taking up the conversation with the waiter, who looked rather annoyed at this point. Of course, he wasn't in a position to argue with a bunch of frightening looking foreigners. The waiter led Fu away after a moment, and Lan Fan followed Ling out of the restaurant and towards the hotel Fu had mentioned.

The building was easy to find—right next door like Fu had said—and they entered, noting that the hotel was fairly small and inconspicuous, also to Fu's tastes. Ling talked to the man at the front desk for a moment, casting a glance over his shoulder at Lan Fan at one point and smirking. He turned back to the man and nodded happily. The man blushed slightly in response, but then he gave a hearty laugh.

"Enjoy your night, Miss," he greeted, grinning as Lan Fan walked pass him.

"What was that all about, Young Lord?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, nothing," he answered, still grinning. Then again, he was almost always grinning; his good nature was one of the things she loved so much about hi—.

_No, not love, I don't love him. I love nothing about him. I am his loyal guard, his fierce guard, but I only love him like a guard should love the one she's guarding and…_

"Hey, Lan Fan?" Ling's change in tone brought her away from her thoughts. She looked up to see him holding open the door and waiting for her to enter, which she did quickly, turning around to make sure the door locked after he shut it.

"Yes, Young Lord?" she answered, satisfied with the door as she moved on to check out the rest of the room. The walls seemed fairly sturdy… no bombs in the corners… no noticeable recording devices…

"Why don't you take a break?" he asked, the same odd tone drawing her attention.

"I don't need a break," she responded on reflex.

"Oh is that so?" he asked, his familiar grin returning. "Because you were acting really weird earlier." She felt her face heat up again, which it seemed to enjoy doing in his presence.

"Weird?" she asked, voice indifferent as she started checking the furniture.

"Yeah, you were bumping into me, almost like you had heatstroke or something," he laughed and she nearly fell over.

_He noticed? Oh no, what do I do? How do I write this off? Maybe I should pretend like he's crazy…_

"Hey, calm down," he insisted and she paused to look at him again, but only for a moment.

"I'm always calm," she stated, continuing her work. "And I wasn't bumping into you."

"I'm pretty sure you were," he grinned again, walking over to the bed, preparing to flop down.

"Wait Young Lord!" she cried, rushing over. He paused, eyes opening in surprise.

"What's the matter?" he asked in confusion.

"I haven't checked the bed yet," she explained, examining the wooden frame and fluffy mattress, not trusting it for a moment. Her grandfather had told her to only trust the young lord absolutely and doubt all else. They couldn't afford to accidently overlook anything in their line of work.

She worked her way around the frame, then started over at the beginning and lifted up the mattress, examining every square inch of the poor, defenseless bed for a few minutes before Ling let out a frustrated sigh. She planned on ignoring him, but then she felt his hand on her shoulder and barely stopped the reflex to attack him.

"Lan Fan, there are easier ways to test that bed you know," he purred suggestively. She felt her face heat up, but luckily she still had her mask on so he couldn't see—.

"Y-Young Lord!" she exclaimed, blushing even more as he pulled down her hood and untied her mask.

"You need to relax and have some fun, Lan Fan," he whispered, tossing the mask aside. It clattered across the floor and Lan Fan resisted the urge to dive after it.

"Young Lord—!"

"Come on, enough of this 'Young Lord' business," he chided. "We've been together since we were little; do you really need to use titles like that with me?"

"Young—!"

"What did I just say?" he scolded, wrapping his arms around her waist, breath tickling her ear.

"L-L-Ling!" she gasped. "Please, you shouldn't—!" Before she could protest any further, Ling hauled them both on the bed and started bouncing up and down on it, laughing his head off.

"See? Isn't this a much better way to test it?" he asked, enjoying himself far too much. Lan Fan scrambled towards the furthest end of the bed away from him as he continued to bounce up and down on the mattress, which groaned in response.

"Young Lord, you really shouldn't do that," Lan Fan protested weakly. He stopped bouncing for a moment and looked at her in confusion.

"What's the harm?" he asked, clearly seeing no reason to _not _abuse the bed. He crawled over and sat cross-legged before her. "You really need to have more fun and relax, Lan Fan."

"That's not my job," she answered by default, feeling her blush keep a steady hold on her face. She longed for her mask, feeling naked without it.

"Why do you always blush like that?" he asked, his curiosity causing him to lean forward to study her face, which only caused her to blush more.

"I don't blush!" she insisted, hands rising to hide her face. Ling caught her by the wrists, grinning.

"You so are."

"Ling!" she exclaimed. "That's not funny!"

"What're you going to do about it?" he sang, grinning like a maniac. He could be so childish at times. Lan Fan narrowed her eyes.

"Let go of me _now_," she hissed, her tone catching him off-guard and breaking his smile, but only for a brief moment.

"Or what?" he whispered, leaning closer. Lan Fan glared at him for a moment before, with her still-red face lighting up even more, she leaned forward and closed the distance between them; her lips pressing hard against his as she felt his grin totally disappear. Hah. She had certainly gotten him this time!

What she wasn't expecting was for Ling to lean forward and kiss her back.

"Young Lord!" she protested, pulling away.

"You started it," he answered, bringing his lips to hers once more, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer.

Meanwhile, Fu sat outside on the edge of the roof above the room, ignoring the moans of his granddaughter and Young Lord coming from within as best he could. Working the bill off had been easy enough, not to mention much quicker than he had thought, but it would take a great deal of time and willpower to forget the sight he had just walked in on.

For goodness' sake, they hadn't even noticed him!


	3. Royai I

**A/N: **_I couldn't decide which kissing scene I wanted to go with, so I'm going to post both! This first one is an original scene, but the second will be an addition to a scene in the anime._

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Timid Touch_

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><p>"Colonel?" Roy Mustang looked up at the mention of his title to see Warrant Officer Falman standing before him, arm raised in a solid salute. He stood up and snapped a reply salute, before gesturing towards a chair in front of his desk.<p>

"Please, take a seat," he offered, shifting back into a comfortable position in his own chair.

"Thank you, Sir," the other man nodded, taking a seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Of course," Roy nodded. "So what brings you here today?" Falman glanced down at the floor, shifting his feet around a bit.

"I know it's not really my place to say anything about it, but well…" he trailed off and looked back up at the Colonel, who sat patiently, his face a mask of indifference. "Some of the guys had heard a rumor about you, and I know it's kind of my job to keep you informed." Roy leaned forward in his seat, taking a sudden interest.

"Is it something about my pursuits?" he asked worriedly. "Or about an assassination attempt?" Falman almost looked relieved at these questions.

"Not quite, Sir," he chuckled. "It's nothing so serious, or at least I don't think it is."

"So what's this rumor about then?" Roy asked in slight confusion. It wasn't like Falman to beat around the bush, but maybe the slight tinge to his cheeks was the reason for his hesitation. An embarrassing rumor, eh? Nothing he, Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, couldn't handle certainly.

"It's about you and…" Falman paused again, barely managing to make eye contact with his superior officer. "Lieutenant Hawkeye, Sir."

"What about her?" he asked, confused by the sudden inclusion of his lieutenant in this rumor.

"Some of the guys were thinking that maybe you two are… you know?" Falman gestured with his hands slightly, trying to get the point across. "I mean, I was talking to Second Lieutenant Breda and Sergeant Major Fuery and they had heard the same thing."

"What exactly are you all thinking?" Roy asked, Falman's poking around the subject starting to wear on his nerves. "Trust me, I'd be a lot less upset if you'd just spit it out."

"We all thought that maybe you and Lieutenant Hawkeye have a romantic relationship, Sir!" Falman practically screamed, jumping out of his seat and, for whatever reason, saluting.

"Calm down," Roy commanded, pointing at towards the seat Falman had just jumped out of. "And sit down." The officer nodded and sat down again, face red, hands folded, and head bowed as if he was a small child being scolded. He was certainly acting like it.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he amended. "We drew straws to see who would ask you. Today's just not my day." Roy almost had to laugh at that, but kept a composed face instead. Now wasn't the time to be joking, it was the time to squash rumors.

"It's fine, Falman," he answered easily. "You can go and tell them that the rumors are ridiculous. She's my right-hand subordinate, so of course she's always by my side. She's also my personal guard, although that's slightly more off the record…" he paused to see Falman nod in understanding before continuing, "If these rumors are coming about because we're always around each other, then they're just jumping to conclusions. Romantic, bored minds no doubt, coming up with such things."

"Of course, Sir," Falman agreed, nodding again.

"And if anyone has any proof beyond that, such as seeing us out together in public," Roy concluded, "then they're just making things up. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Falman jumped up and saluted again. "I'm sorry to have brought such a petty rumor to your ears."

"Not to worry," Roy answered divinely. "All rumors hold some weight, even the small, seemingly inconsequential, totally fictional ones. It's good that you brought it to me so that I could rid the mill of it."

"You're welcome, Sir," Falman stuttered slightly, holding his salute.

"Okay, okay," Roy sighed, standing up and returning the salute. "Now go and do something useful. Dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir!" Falman shouted a little too happily, running out of the room, but not before Roy noticed him nearly run down someone trying to enter. Great, another visitor. He watched with a bored expression as Falman stuttered out an apology and took off down the hall, no doubt in search of his peers. None other than Riza Hawkeye popped her head in after Falman had taken off.

"A bad time, Sir?" she asked politely before entering. Nice to know some people had manners still.

"Not at all," Roy answered, gesturing for her to enter. "What is it Lieutenant?"

"More papers for you to sign off on," she answered, revealing said papers as she entered the room, walking over to his desk and slamming them down. "And you had better finish them _all_ before you go home tonight, Sir. We don't need more heat coming our way just because you decided to slack off again."

"No promises," he smirked.

"I'm serious, Sir," she rebuked calmly. "If your work ethic is questioned too much you may be demoted."

"They can't demote me for not signing a few silly sheets of paper," he grumbled, but nonetheless he picked up a few sheets and started glancing through them.

"Actually, they can, Sir," she answered. "Now I'll leave you to your work." She snapped a salute and turned to walk off, but just as her hand reached the doorknob, Roy called out to her.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, there's a special at this great place I know of tonight," he began, still looking at the papers, knowing she wouldn't have turned around. "I was wondering if you'd like to go get dinner after work."

"Sir, that wouldn't be helping those rumors about us," she answered quietly. Roy looked up in surprise, but her face was still turned away.

"You heard that?" he whispered in surprise.

"It's my job to watch your back at all times," she answered calmly. If her emotions had wavered at all, her voice certainly wasn't showing it. "So it's also my job to stay informed when it comes to rumors."

"Lieutenant, face me," he commanded. She turned around, her face nearly an unreadable mask, but her eyes betrayed something, just a little emotion playing on the edges that no one would ever notice. Roy knew her too well, though, and he saw it. She almost looked…

Hurt.

"Will that be all, Sir?" she asked after he had examined her face for a long moment. "I have work to do."

"Yes, but Lieutenant," he paused, locking eyes with her. "I will treat you to dinner tonight. I can handle any rumors that crop up." She looked like she wanted to protest, but he knew she wouldn't. She felt it wasn't her place to protest something like this. If he went insane with power, of course she had permission to shoot him in the back, but she didn't have permission to tell him how to handle rumors. If he wanted to encourage them, she wouldn't be the one to stop him.

"Yes, Sir," she answered, eyes twinkling mischievously. "But you have to finish your paperwork first." After that she quickly turned and walked out of his office, the door slamming shut behind her.

Roy leaned back in his chair and let out a frustrated sigh. First Falman with that stupid rumor, then the paperwork, and then Riza… Leaning forward again and resting his elbows on the desk, he folded his hands. Maybe they were all a bit more connected than he'd like to admit.

Falman—and his other subordinates as well—apparently thought something was going on between him and his lieutenant, but that was just nonsense, just like he had told Falman. What he hadn't told Falman, what he hadn't added on, was that he wished he could say there was some truth to the rumors. Not that he would ever admit it out-loud.

Although, to be fair, his relationship with Riza was a bit more complicated. He was no young boy infatuated with his childhood friend. He knew what threatened the world, what threatened his life and hers every day. He knew of the nightmares that haunted them both. The thing about the lieutenant was that he understood everything about her perfectly, and she knew far too much about him as well. They could tell every thought, every emotion of the other.

Or so he had thought.

Over time it had become apparent—likely to both of them—that something had changed over the course of their long-standing friendship. When he thought about it he couldn't honestly think of a single moment, let alone a single year, where the feelings between them had changed. The change itself was, after all, nearly invisible. At least to them it was.

He wasn't so foolish to think that he had always loved her, yet at the same time, he couldn't recall a time when he hadn't loved her. Then again, love itself was a bit of a loaded word. What did love mean for two career-centered people who put their lives on the line on a daily basis. After all, who knew when a war would break out? Who knew when a mugging would call them to be heroic? Anything could happen in a matter of seconds for them.

Maybe that was all there was to it.

Their lives were always on the brink, so they stayed close to each other, protected each other. Maybe it was a kind of love, but never a physical or attached love. A love that protected the other ceaselessly, so that their own guilt at the end of the night would be a little less.

Dedication.

He looked at the pile of papers before him. Screw love or protective instincts or promises or whatever kept them together so long. He was going to finish these papers and take her out to dinner. Who cared if it looked romantic? He just wanted to thank her for all the hard work she did, more so than any of his other subordinates.

Just thank her.

Just as friends.

And somewhere, deep down, it hurt to know it was true.

After hours and hours of horrendous paperwork, Roy Mustang finally stood up, stretched until he felt his back pop, and yawned. The day had felt longer than usual, but he knew it was only because of the fact that he had actually worked for once. He looked down at the final document, jotted his initials on the dotted line, and placed it smugly in the 'Out Box.'

"I'm impressed, Colonel." Roy looked up in surprise to see Riza Hawkeye standing there, dressed in some rather nice looking civilian clothes.

"Lieutenant, odd to see you out of uniform," he commented, closing his eyes, blocking her image.

"I was under the impression I was going out to eat tonight," she replied. He slowly opened his eyes to see a familiar yet rare twinkle of enjoyment in her eyes. "If you're not coming with me, then I'll go on my own."

"Of course," he answered, walking over to her, barely concealing his smirk. "But we'll need to stop by my place first."

"For what?" she asked, following as he walked pass her and out the door.

"I don't come as prepared as you, apparently," he replied, glancing over at her again. She looked so good with her hair grown out, flowing down her shoulders instead of up in a bun. She nodded wordlessly in response as the two made their way out of the central offices.

If Roy could only say one positive thing about Central, it would be about Central at night. The city lights didn't shine harshly, with the military headquarters being the brightest thing in Central. The lights, rather, cast an iridescent glow on those who walked the street at night. He supposed it could be scary for a small child, but Central was a relatively safe place for a city, even at night. So the semi-darkness and cozy feeling of the city created a rather amorous affect.

He always loved walking around the city at night, especially after a hard day's work. Most of his subordinates were under the impression that he always went out drinking or looking for cute girls, but truthfully he spent more time walking than those two things combined. Not that it would be good for his reputation if that ever got out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Riza shiver slightly. With his black overcoat on he couldn't really tell, but he supposed that it was getting late in the year. The night was coming on faster and lasting longer, and even here in the middle of the country, the bite of winter could be felt. He shrugged his coat off and casually placed it over Riza's shoulders. She stopped and looked up at him in surprise.

"Sir?" she asked uncertainly.

"You looked cold," he dismissed, barely pausing in his stride. She quickly kept walking, and he noticed her tug the coat tighter over her shoulders. Looking away, towards the sky, he let out a slow breath, watching as the tendrils of hot air condensed and rose into the atmosphere.

_A kind of alchemy anyone can do,_ he thought with a slight smile.

He turned a corner, and knew they were getting close—not that he lived all that far from the offices in the first place. For a moment he wondered if he should send her on ahead to the restaurant, since he only had to change clothes, but he shook the thought away almost instantly. It wouldn't be very gentlemanly to abandon her or send her off on her own. That was another thing he kept hidden away from his subordinates: being a gentleman. Although he never could really think of himself as one, to be fair.

They arrived at the apartment complex and marched their way to his apartment, as he wondered worriedly if everything was cleaned up. He couldn't seem to recall what state of mess he had left the room in. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung open to reveal a rather sparse setting. He may be a bit lax on organization at times, but at least he wasn't a hoarder so there really wasn't that much _to _organize.

"You can take a seat wherever," he told her, walking off towards his room. "I'll be right back." He didn't bother waiting for any kind of confirmation, but then again he knew he didn't need to. He probably didn't even have to say that much, but it was just a knee-jerk reaction of politeness.

Riza watched him disappear around the corner and took a seat on the couch in the center of the room, prepared to wait patiently for him. Her eyes wandered over this new landscape, scanning the sparse walls and furnishings, thinking somehow it was very much like Roy. Her apartment was similar: a nearly empty place, used mainly for sleeping and the occasional breakfast. It was clear neither entertained much.

It was almost odd, how the two of them lived. She would like to believe it had to do with their lifestyle, but she had visited Lieutenant Colonel Hughes before and his house seemed normal enough. Then again, he had a family, whereas Roy and she only had themselves to look after. She sighed and leaned back against the couch, finished observing the simple room.

A moment later, as promised, Roy re-emerged from the bedroom to see his lieutenant sitting on the couch. He walked over and realized why she hadn't turned around or reacted to him in anyway; she had fallen asleep while he was changing. It hadn't been that long, so she must've been obscenely tired. He smiled gently and carefully adjusted her, mindful not to wake her, into a more comfortable position on the couch.

She could sleep here for a while. No doubt she would be up with a few hours, embarrassed and ready to leave. Roy looked over at her sleeping form a bit ruefully. He had wanted so badly to treat her that he didn't even realize she was totally exhausted. She had been working hard lately, though, so maybe he would have better luck next time.

He started to walk away from her, but then hesitated. It would be wrong to just leave her here. What if she woke up and didn't recall right away where she was? She might think she had been kidnapped, and the last thing he needed was for her to attack him in a half-asleep state of mind. He moved back towards her, sitting down on the floor with his back to the couch. He looked over his shoulder at her sleeping face and couldn't seem to drag his attention away.

She looked so peaceful when she slept, with all the daily lines of stress vanished. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, onto her face, and impulsively Roy reached a hand out and brushed the hair away, fingers lingering as he touched the soft, delicate skin of her cheek. For one so war-weary, she certainly kept herself from seeming like it.

To his surprise she reached a hand up to cover his, shifting slightly, and opening her eyes ever-so-slowly. For a moment he worried that she would break his hand and attack him, but it seemed like sleep slowed her like it slowed everyone. Or maybe, wishful as it might be, she felt safe here so she had time to wake up.

"Roy?" she whispered, blinking her eyes open. "I'm sorry. Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, but that's okay," he answered, trying not to let his mind linger on the fact that she had actually used his name without any kind of title.

"I'm sorry," she breathed again. "I'll get out of your way in a minute."

"You're never in my way," he whispered, hand still resting on her cheek. He felt her squeeze his hand with her own. "You can stay for the night, if you want."

"I don't know," she muttered, pulling his hand away from her face, but not releasing it. "I really couldn't impose."

"You wouldn't be imposing," he assured, reaching over with his other hand to cradle hers. "Actually… Riza…" he nearly choked trying to say her name. Had it been so long since he talked to her without titles? "I would like it if you would stay for the night."

She looked down at him in surprise, her typically carefully hidden emotions slowly playing out across her face in the form of a slight blush. She looked away from him, down to their hands. Slowly she looked back at him, only to see him leaning forward, a determined yet gentle look in his eyes.

"Roy…" she whispered, squeezing his hands again.

"What is it?" he asked, the gentle tone of his voice matching the look in his eyes. She could feel his warm breath on her skin as he whispered the question, and a shiver ran down her spine at it.

"What about those rumors?" she questioned at last, doing her best to ignore the closeness of her superior officer.

"They're only rumors," he answered, and for a moment it seemed as if he had given up on whatever he had been so determined about before. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately—?" Riza started to question this, but she was brought up short as he closed the small gap that had been between them. Quicker than she would ever admit, she melted into the kiss, tilting her head as it grew more involved, breath quickly growing ragged.

Roy slowly and unwillingly broke the kiss, leaning back and pausing for only a moment. Suddenly, before Riza could protest, he stood up, lifting her with him and carrying her towards his bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and laid her down on the bed, continuing the kiss as he joined her on the firm mattress.

With his hands on either side of her, he propped himself up as he broke away again from her lips, only to trail kisses down her neck, to her collarbone…

"Roy, don't we have work tomorrow?" she moaned.

"Not anymore," he answered with a familiar smirk on his face as his lips found hers once more.

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><p><strong>AN: **_I apologize if you added this story to your favorites list or added it to your alert list and didn't receive a thank you note. Somehow my private messaging was disabled, so I didn't even get an e-mail saying the story was updated like I normally do. Sorry! And thanks! The second part of the Royai section is up next!_


	4. Royai II

**A/N: **_Another Royai piece, with _**spoilers**_ for episode 48 of Brotherhood! Next time will be a requested piece. _

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Last Chance_

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><p>The explosion had shaken the underground sewer system, and Roy Mustang had watched as his, for all intents and purposes, mother walked away. He realized that this may very well be the last time he would ever see her. This uprising could result in his death, although failure on his part would bring about worse results than just one life lost.<p>

If they didn't succeed in this endeavor, it could mean the death of him, his subordinates, and all of Amestris. He _had _to make this mission a success.

He turned and walked off towards the rendezvous sight after his mother had vanished from his line of sight. First Lieutenant Hawkeye, Second Lieutenant Breda, and Sergeant Major Fuery were all waiting for him down the tunnel a ways. They would move tonight, taking the fuehrer's wife as hostage first, and then the plan would be on its way—inescapable once they made their move.

He walked into the underground room, relieved to see them all there and well—sans a few cuts and bruises on Fuery's part.

"You're late, Colonel," Breda goaded. "We were about ready to ditch you."

Mustang couldn't resist grinning a bit at this. It had been so long since he'd seen them all; although he wouldn't admit it, he had missed their antics. He supposed it was one of those things you didn't notice you were missing until it returned. He definitely missed having his team at his side.

After making sure the room was secure and a joke at the expense of Fuery, he decided it was time to get down to business. He had to make sure they knew what could happen tonight and tomorrow—the promised day. They had to know what they were getting into while there was time to get out.

He certainly wouldn't blame them.

"The fuehrer's train plummeted into a ravine," Mustang revealed, filling them in on the latest news. "The fuehrer and Selim are missing… this is either the chance of a lifetime or a trap." He paused and took a deep breath. Time to see whose loyalty would withstand. "This is your last chance to back out—."

"Enough already!" they all interrupted, annoyance evident, surprising him.

"Your orders, Sir?" Hawkeye asked before he had a chance to respond, a knowing look on her face. He looked over to Breda and Fuery to see they both shared her slight smirk—a look that said just what he was thinking: _We're damn if we do and we're damn if we don't…_

_So let's do it!_

"The four of us all hold a one-way ticket to the battlefield. There will be no going back if we fail," he explained, making sure to keep eye contact with each of them so they truly understood the severity of the situation. This wasn't just more talk of rising through the ranks—this was _it_. "And as such, I have one order, and you will obey it.

"Do not die! Is that clear?" he concluded fiercely.

"Yes, Sir!" they all belted, snapping to attention.

"Good." He nodded. "Breda, Fuery, yours is the first move. Make your way to the fuehrer's mansion; we'll meet you there shortly after you've finished the preparations. Do not fail me!" The two men saluted again, with a quick and deep, "Sir!" They made their way out of the room, following the path they knew would lead right to the fuehrer's front step.

"Colonel?" Hawkeye asked curiously, obviously confused as to why he had Breda and Fuery move out ahead of them.

Mustang let out a slow sight and covered his mouth with his hand, not looking at her for a moment. This could be the last time they see each other, or at the very least the last time they see each other alone. Once they left this room there truly was no going back for any of them—especially not the two of them.

And he had an odd sinking feeling that he wouldn't see the world the same way again once this was all over with—if he saw the world again.

"First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye," he said slowly, feeling her full title and name roll off his tongue, savoring the moment.

"Sir?" she asked, approaching him to get a better look at his face. Was he having second thoughts after he had already sent Breda and Fuery off—already set his plan into motion?

"Permission to speak informally," he asked, voice neutral, eyes still towards the floor.

"You don't need to ask my permission for—."

"Permission?" he asked again, interrupting her logic.

"Permission granted," she answered, wondering what in the world had gotten into him. He, meanwhile, knew he had to make this quick, yet he had to savor the moment.

"Riza, it's true what I said," he started, looking up, towards the door where Breda and Fuery had exited moments before. "I wish I knew for certain, but no one at this point knows the outcome of this battle. Especially not me, although I hate to admit it."

"No one can predict the future, Sir," she reassured. "As much as we wish we could."

"That's true, but this situation we're in now," he paused, thinking about all that had happened up to this point—everything that had brought them here today, all the way back to Ishval. "The war, Hughes, the homunculus, the fuehrer and his son, a long-lost civilization, something breathing under Central—right under our noses for all these years…

"There's so much going on, so much that we've only just found out about, even though it's been around for years now. Even a war-tested flame alchemist like myself can feel the weight, the importance, the _danger_ of it all. But there is one other thing." He finally looked over at her, meeting her confused eyes with his own determined ones.

"Something else aside from all of that, Sir?" she asked worriedly. After all the strange, twisted news… all the madness of recent times, she couldn't imagine something even worse or more pressing. Then again, it was the same way before she found out about Selim.

"Yes, there's something else that's been around for years, right under our noses," he answered, turning his body to face her, and suddenly there was a different look in his eyes—a look she had never seen before, a softer expression. "Not everything we've found out recently has been bad."

"I can hardly imagine the positive side of all of this, Sir," she answered, sincerely worried that all of this pressure had gotten to him, but that didn't seem like him at all. Before she could really process what he meant, he reached out and took her hands. His thumbs started to make small circles on her calloused palms, gently massaging them.

"We've both seen war, Riza," he whispered. "We both know how easy it is to not come back from something like that. Not just in the sense that an inch is the difference between a graze and instant death, but in the sense that we're never the same person afterwards.

"I'm no fool, and neither are you. People never stay the same, but it seems especially true for soldiers. I don't want to go into this battle without telling you as myself—the person I am right now, the person who's cared about you for years, and would've died, in more ways than one, a long time ago without you."

"Sir, I don't know what to say," she answered, not pulling away from him, not feeling the need to, but uncertain as to how to respond to his sudden confession.

"I just need to know, before I put my life on the line again, before I risk losing you again," he clarified, still whispering and leaning closer. "Just tell me if I'm a fool for loving you all these years, or if you've ever felt the same way. That's all I need to hear to go into this battle fully prepared."

For a long time they stood there, toe to toe, her hands still clasped in his, mere inches from each other as Riza looked away from his eyes at last. She stared down at their hands, refusing to consider the time or rush the answer as she thought carefully. Love wasn't a battle—you never rushed it.

She thought about the way she had watched her father teach him alchemy, and the day she finally decided to give him the secrets to flame alchemy. That crisp day after they had buried her father, before he joined the military, when she thought life was simple and beautiful.

Then the war. She followed him into a war, where she knew she could lose her life, but what life did she have to live for at that point? After her father died, Roy was the closest thing to family she had. Why wouldn't she follow him? Why wouldn't she stay by his side in the years after the war?

Sometime during the course of all their years in the military, she had buried something. Buried it with her father that cold day. Because she knew that if she was going to follow him through the military, she had to steel her heart.

She had to forget that small, fragile crush on the enchanting pupil her father had taken on.

Riza squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as Roy stood there, unmoving, barely breathing as he waited for her answer.

Had she ever really given up on that feeling? No, of course not. It wasn't something she could get rid of, she had found out during the course of her military career. Every time he stepped into the room, how her heart skipped a beat. Every time he was in danger, how her heart lurched in fear. Every time she thought of him and everything that could have been, if he hadn't chosen the military and listened to her father all those years ago.

Her heart ached with the thought, every time.

"Why else," she asked, looking back up after what had felt like an eternity, "would I follow you so far?"

Roy's eyes held the same tender look as he leaned towards her, closing the short distance, and planted his lips firmly against hers. He finally released her hands only to wrap his arms around her waist, just as she moved to drape her arms over his shoulders. They pulled each other close as they shared their first kiss, knowing full well that when this moment ended they would be required to march on the battlefield once again.

Finally, regrettably, Riza pulled away from him, locking eyes with him, hoping to prolong the moment.

"My order goes double for you," he whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze. "After the dust settles…"

"We can consider that when it happens," she answered, knowing she had to be the voice of reason. Not that Roy wasn't a level-headed young man, but that was just the job she had fallen into around him over the years. It was simply habit by this point.

"I love you," he whispered. "We're going to get through this."

"We will—we always do," she answered, giving him a slight, hesitant smile. "If you don't die, I won't."

"Deal," he nodded, finally releasing her and taking a step back. "Now, let's go catch up with Breda and Fuery. We have a government to overturn."

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><p><strong>AN: **_Hey guys, just wanted to remind you that this series continues for as long as I get requests; I will do basically anything within the universe, so go nuts._


	5. EdWin II

**A/N: **_Hey guys, first of all _**spoilers** _for the end of the manga start here. I'm going to go back and mark the chapters with whatever pairing it is so people can jump between their pairings easier. First request is for _DeathBySugarCube, _post-manga, EdWin._

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Heart and Home_

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><p><em>Men who just sit around and do nothing are boring…<em>

Winry blinked sleepily, feeling around for the covers she could use to cover up her head to block out the prodding sunlight; she needed to think a moment before her dream vanished. She had been some place… familiar… and she had said something familiar. What was it though?

"Winry, are you up yet?" Pinako yelled up the stairs, effectively chasing away the fragmented remnants of her dream. So much for that.

"Yeah," she called, voice still thick with sleep. "Be down in a minute." She rolled over in her bed and covered her eyes with her arm. If ever there was a day she didn't want to get up, today would be it, and she knew that dream had something to do with it.

If only she could remember it.

_No use dwelling on it now,_ she figured, finally willing herself to roll out of bed, shivering at the cold morning air that pervaded the room. Winter was fast approaching; she would need to start wearing thicker pajamas and warning her customers of the danger of frozen automail—.

She stopped mid-step, turning to look out the single window in her room Maybe that was it? Maybe _he _was the source of the dream, or at the very least, he had something to do with it. What had she dreamed about exactly though? It would bother her all day, without a doubt, but suddenly she couldn't help but wonder if there would be other things on her mind to distract her.

It _was _getting cold out; about that there was no doubt. The cold could be a pain for careless automail wearers, but she didn't mind the winter months. Partially because she had grown up in a rural place where winter last for upwards of four months, but mostly because she never really had a bad memory of winter. In fact, as the years went by, winter had meant more and more to her.

And this time she knew without a doubt it was because of _him._

She trooped downstairs to the kitchen table where Pinako was busy setting out dishes for breakfast. Winry quickly jumped in to help, and for a moment the two women worked in silence, the morning routine no more than a second thought after all these years.

"So Winry," Pinako began, startling her granddaughter a bit. Something in the tone of her words caused Winry to stop what she was doing and look at her curiously.

"What is it?" she asked as Pinako finished setting the table and sat down, gesturing for her to do the same. Winry obliged and waited patiently for the elderly woman to speak.

"I hate beating around the bush with you," she sighed. "I'll just come right out and say it: you've been thinking of Edward Elric quite a bit recently, haven't you?"

"I think about both Ed and Al plenty," Winry automatically corrected, the words more of a reflex than anything. Her heart ached a little, thinking of how often the boys were gone. So often that she had grown somewhat used to them never being around. The days of their childhood, when they were inseparable, were long past.

"I know you worry about both of them plenty," Pinako conceded. "I worry about both of them too, you know. They've been off gallivanting around the country since they were boys, and now that they've grown into fine young men, I wonder if our worry isn't a little misplaced."

"I like to think that they both need us here to worry about them, even now," Winry whispered, wondering where her grandmother could possibly be going with this.

"That's true," she agreed again. "However, that subjects worn away over the years. You still haven't answered my original question."

"What was that?" Winry asked, leaning her elbows on the table, anxious to finish this conversation so that they could eat.

"You've been thinking about Ed quite a bit lately, haven't you?" she asked again, leaning back in her own chair and crossing her arms. "More so than usual."

"Like I said, Grandma, I think about both of them," Winry answered letting out a sigh. Talk about a pointless delay to breakfast. Why was she so apt on bringing up Ed right now anyway?

"Forget about Al for a moment," Pinako snapped in frustration. "I may be old, but I'm not blind." Winry looked up at her in surprise. Her grandmother had never been so… direct about confronting her like this. Typically things would go naturally understood, and for what wasn't, well, that was to be left alone.

"Well, his birthday is coming up soon," she answered at last, lowering her eyes. "And he's been gone for nearly two years. Of course I've been thinking about him."

"That's what I thought," Pinako grunted in satisfaction. "Winry, listen to me good now," she paused and waited for Winry to look her in the eyes before continuing. "Don't let your thoughts of him or your worry over him distract you too much. I know you know that both of those boys will come and go as they please, and I also hope you know that it's okay for Ed to be special."

"G-Grandma!" Winry cried out, blushing so much she thought her face was going to explode from the heat. Pinako shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Winry," she said, her even tone causing Winry to settle down a bit. "You're all grown up now. It's okay to love Ed and Al as brothers and it's okay to love Ed as more than that," she paused again and this time it was her turn to look off to the side, embarrassed. "And don't think I don't know about that proposal of his either."

"Eh?" Winry gasped, blush returning in full force. "Grandma! How'd you hear about that? Were you spying on us?"

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," Pinako scoffed. "I have better things to do with my time. I heard it from one of the women in the village when I went to market—and that was a while ago. I just assumed you would bring it up so I wouldn't have to."

"Did you really have to?" Winry whined, burying her face in her arms.

"Unfortunately," Pinako growled. "I have a feeling the midget's coming home to claim his prize after all this time."

"Do you really think…?" Winry asked, eyes lighting up excitedly. Grandma was rather talented when it came to predicting when the brothers would be coming around—she was practically never wrong.

"Does it matter?" Pinako sighed, hoping off her seat and moving towards the oven to pull out breakfast. "I just want you to be prepared. He's probably going to be nervous like no tomorrow—and he won't know how to act around you, that's for sure." She waddled back over to the table and offered up the meal to Winry.

"It's not like all that much has changed," Winry answered quietly, picking up some bread. "It's not like we're married or anything."

"Yet," Pinako tacked on, enjoying her warm food a bit too much. "I just don't want you two trying to kill each other over this and disrupting my peace."

"Oh come on, we're not that bad," Winry muttered, face sour. Pinako laughed and the mood felt lighter again as they fell into their typical routine. Now, though, there wasn't a shadow of a doubt in Winry's mind.

All the anticipation, uncertainty, waiting, was all coming to a head. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Ed was coming home for his birthday, after disappearing for two long years. They hadn't talked to each other in all that time; she had wondered frequently what could have kept him so busy, and she worried that something would have changed between the two of them in that time.

What if he took back his proposal?

Or, maybe worse than that…

What if she had second thoughts?

* * *

><p>Pinako was nothing if not accurate.<p>

Around the time ice storms had started to freeze over the countryside, the last train of a particularly cold day rolled in. It had come, more or less, from Central with a stockpile of supplies for the village, as they had predicted it would be a particularly cold winter, and a handful of people.

Most of the people it dropped off were men who had been out working elsewhere to make a living for a season, along with some younger boys who had wanted to earn a little extra cash for themselves. Winry heard the whistle of this particular train as it took off, on down the lines, but thought nothing of it and continued to work on her latest piece while Pinako gave her a strange look.

"Winry, why don't you go clean yourself up," she asked, leaning in the doorframe to her workroom.

"I'm not that dirty; I'll wash up before dinner," Winry answered, not paying much attention at all. The newest piece held her full attention and her grandmother gave a short chuckle.

"Winry, look at me," she commanded, a bemused smile on her face. Finally her granddaughter turned around and lifted away her welding mask.

"What is it?" she asked, completely oblivious to the words spoken a few seconds ago.

"Go clean up for dinner," Pinako repeated. "We're having guests."

"Oh, a neighbor?" she asked, hopping off her stool. Neighbor was a loose term, as the village where most of the people were located, was a fair distance from their home. The closest they had to a neighbor had been the Elrics, once upon a time.

"Yes, an old neighbor," Pinako nodded, turning and walking off. Winry looked after her, feeling like she was missing out on something, but decided to leave it for another day. She made her way to the bathroom to wash up and ended up spending more time than expected in the shower. Sometimes, after a long day in the shop, the warm water just felt too good to resist.

Slowly but surely the warm water faded, though, forcing her from the shower. She tip-toed her way towards the kitchen and listened carefully. She had been almost certain she heard Den barking while she was washing up. Sure enough, as she approached the entrance to the kitchen, voices drifted towards her from within.

"I figured you'd be back soon," she heard Pinako say, an emotion in her voice that Winry had never heard before. "But I didn't think you'd actually come back with that in mind."

"Are you mad?" Winry's breath caught in her throat. It had been years, but she would recognize that voice anywhere, any time.

"Ed," she whispered, leaning against the wall for support. She hadn't expected such a rush of emotion to accompany just hearing his voice. She stood out of sight, quietly smiling to herself as she reigned in her emotions. She might even cry if she went in there right now; she just needed to give herself a moment to prepare… to prepare herself for seeing his face again, then knowing he was really here.

"Not at all," Pinako chuckled. "I'm glad to see it happen before I pass away. You and I have had our share of differences—."

"No kidding," he muttered in that sarcastic tone of his, just like always.

"—But I'm not blind," Pinako continued, pretending like she hadn't heard his comment. "It does my heart good Ed; you look at her the same way Urey used to look at Sara."

"Bah, come on old lady," he growled. "Don't get all sentimental on me after all these years."

"Pah. Hardly," she chuckled. "You better take good care of her Edward Elric. Even if it means staying home for more than a week at a time." Winry listened carefully, heart pounding in her chest. Her grandmother praising Ed? What would be next? Dogs flying through Central? She heard a chair screech across the wooden floor as one of them stood up, followed by the sound of soft footsteps.

"I left when I was twelve to become a State Alchemist and find a way to get Al's body back," she heard Ed recite, his voice sounding far away despite his closeness. "Five years I was obsessed with finding the answer to everything. I stayed here for two years after the Promised Day, and I honestly don't know if I can ever get used to staying in one place so long. I tried that time, I really did."

"You're just like your father," Pinako chuckled. Ed made no response, surprising Winry. Normally he would react violently to such a comparison. "I'm sorry, Edward," she coughed after an awkward pause. "I don't think of your father as such a bad man, like you do."

"I don't think he was bad," Ed quickly defended, sounding more than a little conflicted. "It took a long time, but I think I'm finally starting to understand why he left. Or at least that feeling in his gut that told him he had to go."

"Would you give her that, just to leave her again?" Pinako asked, her voice holding a dangerous edge. "You're father wasn't all bad, but leaving you kids and your mother was unforgivable… even if it was for the better in the end."

"That would be different," Ed explained, and Winry heard someone move again, coming closer to the entrance. For a moment Winry was worried she would be discovered. "I think Winry knows by now that I'll always be coming and going, but I'm not about to repeat Hoenheim's mistakes."

"By his mistakes do you mean leaving your mother or leaving you?" Pinako asked wisely. There was a beat of silence and Winry heard an odd sound like a sob or laugh being choked off. "Come on, Edward, don't get sentimental on me," the old woman prodded.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I would _never _leave my sons behind. Winry might know, but I would always know they don't. You just can't explain to a kid why his father's not around, no matter what happened to him."

"Edward—?" Pinako asked, sounding surprised. _What's he doing_, Winry wondered, leaning forward a bit.

"I won't leave my family like he did," Ed answered sternly. Winry could've sworn she heard him sniffle. "So please, trust me with her." Another pause. "…I'm not my father."

"Oh, Ed, I know you're not," Pinako answered, sounding slightly choked up herself. "Now come on. We're too old for this sentimental crap."

"Never agreed with you more," Ed responded, and Winry could practically feel the mood lighten even from where she stood.

"Winry, stop hanging by the door and get in here," Pinako called, causing her to jump. How had she known…? Winry walked into the room, grinning sheepishly. "I swear, you both act like little kids, even after all this time," Pinako muttered, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. "She's yours if you can handle her, Edward Elric."

With that, Pinako left the room, muttering about finding some ingredients in the cellar. Winry slowly turned towards Ed, feeling a lump in her throat as her heart pounded like a horse thundering down a dusty road. Melted gold met brilliant blue as the two long-time friends stood awkwardly, mere feet from each other for a few long seconds.

"What, you're not even going to say hi?" Ed barked, hiding his blush behind bravado.

"That is so like you," Winry giggled, slowly approaching him. "Welcome home, Ed." He reached out and wrapped his arms around her when she was close enough, pulling her the rest of the way to him.

"Good to be home," he mumbled, chin resting on top of her head. "Ah, Winry?" he asked, suddenly sounding nervous. She pulled away and looked up at him, confusion obvious on her face.

"What is it?" she asked, just as a thought crept into the back of her mind. "You didn't break your automail did you?" she demanded, already feeling the old pieces fall back into place.

"No! No, of course not," he quickly defended, before he got a welcome-home wrench to the side of his head. "It's just that, well, I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh," Winry answered, not sure how else to responded. Usually the only time he sounded that nervous was when he had broken his automail through carelessness. "Well, what is it, Ed?"

"Actually, it's about what the old lady and I were talking about," he confessed, carefully keeping his arms around her waist. It almost seemed like he was willing himself not to move. "And, well, Winry… I know I haven't been the best friend to you over the years, or the best customer, or the best neighbor even—I mean one time, I dug up your mom's flowers because—!"

"Ed!" Winry snapped, causing him to cut himself off short. She shook her head and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his chest. "Just spit it out, I won't even look at you." She heard him sigh in frustration and suddenly push her away. Before she could make the sharp remark lingering on her tongue, he was down on one knee.

"I didn't exactly do it right the first time, but I don't think I was ready then," he explained. "I still have so much I want to see, even after all this time, but I don't want that to mean I give up on other things."

"Ed?" she whispered, genuinely shocked by his demeanor. Granted, he was barely holding it together and blushing fiercely, but this just might be the single most romantic moment of her life.

"I want you to come with me this time, Winry," he whispered, looking down towards his coat as he brought out a small box, "as my wife." He offered up the sparkling gem, eyes diverted due to utter embarrassment, but Winry could see it in his eyes—the words he just couldn't bring himself to say. She might think he was an imposter if he got too sappy, after all.

Her knees buckled and she latched onto his neck, sending them both to the floor, the ring forgotten for the moment. He cautiously wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tight.

"S-so is that a yes or what?" he grumbled, face even more red than before. She smirked and strained her neck to reach his lips, giving him a quick peck and sending steam out his ears.

"Of course," she giggled, snuggling closer and feeling his body tense up. He needed to learn to get used to other people touching him—or at least her touching him. It would come in time though, just like everything he did.

Ed let his head fall back to rest on the wooden floor as he held Winry close as she snuggled into his chest, her arms still wrapped around his neck. He couldn't believe he'd actually done it. Letting out a relieved sigh, he allowed the tension drain from his body, focusing only on her warmth.

Pinako cleared her throat from across the room, causing them both to jump apart.

"There are beds upstairs, but I swear if I have to listen to it all night, then _he's _not allowed to enter this house again," she warned, jabbing a finger towards Ed.

"G-grandma!" Winry exclaimed, feeling her face light up. Ed, meanwhile, seemed to have suffered a total mental collapse.

"Hmph, kids," the old woman muttered as she moved to prepare dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I think that was a little weak, but tell me what you think. More requests coming up next chapter - I apologize again if I haven't personally thanked you for adding this story to your alert/favorite list or reviewed. For some reason I'm not getting alerts and it's hard to keep track without. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Royai III

**A/N: **_Request number two for _TheNinjaAlchemist95. _Happy birthday, my friend, and to the rest of you: enjoy!_

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games: <strong>_

_Birthday Blitz _

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><p>Riza Hawkeye was, in fact, human, so it was only natural that she occasionally enjoyed certain human-like things, such as birthdays. Of course, this was Riza Hawkeye, so the usual complaints of aging went unheard of; so what if she was getting another year older? How different was it from yesterday, honestly?<p>

So maybe she looked at birthdays a little more practically than others, but she still enjoyed them nonetheless. She had already made plans to go out with Rebecca Catalina, one of her few close friends that wasn't a man. Actually, that was a bit more key than she cared to admit.

She didn't want to get mixed up with any guys on her birthday.

The whole idea just seemed unpleasant to her, and she wasn't so weak as to cave into the temptation to celebrate in that way. What was the point of one night of indulgence if you only regretted it in the morning? She had grown far beyond living with regrets—let someone else have them, but not her, not again.

Shaking her head, she pushed the thoughts aside. Today _was _a day to celebrate, not to dwell on the past. All she had to do, before she could celebrate properly, was make her way through the dregs of the work day. Luckily she had kept her birthday a secret from everyone—well, almost everyone.

Roy Mustang was a very special exception to this case. They had basically grown up together, so of course they both knew each other's birthdays.

She just had to make sure he never revealed it in front of anyone else. Not that she would mind the birthday well-wishes, but if any of them gave her gifts she wouldn't know what to do. She would feel obligated to thank them and then it just spiraled into an out-of-control day with no work getting done—not that it ever does.

"Lieutenant," Fuery greeted, snapping a salute.

"Sergeant Major," she nodded in kind, returning the salute.

"Ma'am, the colonel's been acting funny today," he started hesitantly, ever timid. "We were wondering if you would talk to him. He keeps snapping at us."

"He's not usually very vocal," she agreed.

"No, I meant snapping like with his fingers—Breda actually caught on fire!" he exclaimed, fear evident in his eyes.

"Oh, I see," she nodded again. "I'll go talk to him. Dismissed."

"Th-thank you, Ma'am," he stuttered, snapping another salute before they parted ways. She couldn't help but wonder what had Colonel in such a tizzy, as far as she knew there were no recent developments he should be worrying over. Even if that were the case, he was usually better about controlling his temper in front of his subordinates.

Maybe Ed had come for a visit.

She knocked on the door to his office, waiting for his grunt of approval before swinging the door open and marching inside. She snapped a salute, indiscreetly studying the area to pick up on a clue for his bad mood. Nothing seemed out of place—he didn't even have that much paperwork.

"At ease," he muttered, not bothering to keep eye contact with her. He started shuffling through some papers, pretending she wasn't standing there, and slowly it dawned on her why he was so upset.

"Sir?" she asked cautiously. Wording this wrong could cause the suffering of her peers.

"What is it?" he growled, practically pouting.

"Is this about my birthday?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, spinning around in his chair and slouching, crossing his arms over his chest. Pouting. How childish. Riza let out a sigh.

"Sir, just because I won't let you get me a gift doesn't mean you should be catching your subordinates on fire," she chastised.

"Who told you—?" he started, spinning around, but he cut himself off. "Why won't you let me at least take you out to dinner or something? It doesn't have to be a big gift—and you know I won't ask you to repay me."

"I told you, Sir," she reminded patiently. "I hate receiving gifts. I feel obligated to pay them back, even if you say I don't need to." He sighed, sounding defeated. He stood up and walked around to the front of his desk, leaning back against it and crossing his arms again, this time keeping eye contact with her.

"Worrying so much will give you gray hair," he told her in a deadpan, and she knew right away what was about to happen: he was going to try to convince her to accept a gift.

"Damn it, Colonel, did you get me something after I told you not to?" she asked, frowning in annoyance. He never listened, did he?

"Don't use that tone with me, _Lieutenant_," he growled in warning and she immediately snapped an apologetic salute.

"I'm sorry, Sir, my tone was out of line," she apologized, her brain crashing into years of military discipline.

"See!" he accused. "That's what I mean: you worry too much. I was joking, Lieutenant, ever heard of it?"

"Joking, hm? No, what's that?"

"I see you at least recognize sarcasm, that's great," he muttered rolling his eyes. "But back to the topic at hand. It's small."

"Sir," she sighed, preparing a mental list of reasons why she would refuse his gift.

"Every year I try to get you something, and every single year you've declined it," he groaned, not letting her start the list he'd heard dozens of times before. "Just one gift—will it really kill you?"

"I've told you before, Sir," she explained, shifting her weight as she recalled all the reasons she was thankful no one else knew about her birthday. Bad enough she had to argue with Colonel about it. "Gifts create obligation, intentional or not. I never get you anything for your birthday, so logically you shouldn't be obligated to get anything for mine."

"Aha!" he exclaimed loudly, causing her jump at the outburst. "That's it exactly! I've thought about this for weeks, and I know I've got the answer this year!"

"Sir, is this why you've been slacking on your paperwork more than usual?" she asked in annoyance, blatantly ignoring his supposed logic.

"That doesn't matter!" he claimed, determined to put paperwork aside, as usual. "You see, I want to give you a gift every year _despite _the fact that you never get me anything for my birthday."

"I don't see how that makes it okay for you to get me a gift," she answered, cautious now. He had something up his sleeve.

"Don't you see Lieutenant?" he asked, despite her answer. "You've never created within me a sense of obligation to return the favor of purchasing some silly gift, because you've never gotten me a gift for my birthday!"

"I'm confused, Sir," she deadpanned. "Do you want a gift for your birthday from now on?"

"No, damn it," he growled, pushing off the desk and walking closer to her. "I'm saying sometimes a guy just wants to give a lady a gift for _no reason_."

"There's always a reason, Sir," she responded, brain on autopilot. She hadn't expected him to get so close to make his argument. She could feel his breath tickle her face, and in the corner of her mind she wondered if it was closer than would be considered appropriate. Honestly, she couldn't tell.

"Maybe I just want to give you something because of all the support you've shown me over the years," he offered, feeling like his reason was still valid—she hadn't totally shot down the logic, after all.

"Why don't you give your other subordinates gifts on their birthdays then?" she asked wisely, lips barely resisting the urge to twist into a triumphant smirk. He let out a frustrated sigh.

"Because they're not you!" he reasoned. "We've known each other longer than any of them have known each other. There are such things as special cases."

"And there's also such a thing as equal treatment," she answered wisely. "Sorry, Sir, but looks like your reasoning has failed again this year."

"You seem to be under the impression that I'm done," he responded, a smirk appearing on his lips—she knew it. He did have something else up his sleeve. Suddenly, she felt his hands on her shoulders and he was staring her down.

"You couldn't possibly make a logical argument at this point," she challenged, feeling a slight shiver race down her spine. His hands were warm, even through her fairly thick uniform.

"Every year you find a way to get out of it, but I know there's a way you'll accept this gift," he smirked, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers. "Marry me," he murmured against her mouth, arms dropping down to her waist as he pulled her close.

Riza Hawkeye, the Hawk's Eye, the steely soldier, the unflinching subordinate felt her cool demeanor evaporate in the heat of the moment as her face lit up. Her stomach did a flip as she sighed and leaned into the kiss, slowly bringing her arms up and draping her arms over his shoulders.

"Sir, this doesn't mean I'll accept your gift," she said breathlessly after an admittedly long while. He chuckled, refusing to let go of her, even when she gave him that look that said, _we're supposed to be working._

"You already did," he answered smartly, that familiar smirk returning.

"I…" she trailed off for a moment, thinking about it. Of course, it didn't take but a moment to catch his meaning. "Sir!" He chuckled.

"Finally got you!" Grinning, he released her and sauntered back over to his desk, sitting down and spinning in his chair once. "Although I'll keep by my word and tell you again you don't need to feel obligated to repay me, I certainly wouldn't mind it, Lieutenant."

"You're horrible, Sir," she answered, turning and making her way towards the door, mostly to hide her own smirk.

"Lieutenant," he called, his voice a bit more serious. "You didn't answer my question." She paused, hand on the doorknob, thinking for a moment. Oh she would pay him back all right.

"I didn't hear a question, Sir," she remarked with a triumphant smirk on her own face, opening the door and walking out before he could say anything else.

Riza Hawkeye enjoyed celebrating birthdays for multiple reasons. She liked cake, just like the next person, not to mention the general inclusion of food and drink. She enjoyed hanging out with her friends within the military without worrying about getting shot. And on occasion, she even enjoyed receiving certain gifts from a certain colonel.

The most fun, though, was waiting until his birthday when she would have the chance to pay him back—and playing hard to get until then.

What?

She was, in fact, a woman, so it was only natural to want to have a little discreet fun every now and then, especially when it came to her colonel.

Not that she would want anyone to know that, of course.


	7. LingLan II

**A/N: **_Request three via GeneralGeneric, who's actually requested a two-part piece… kind of. You'll see. Part one: Ling Yao and Lan Fan return!_

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Kung Fu Kiss_

* * *

><p>"Come on Lan Fan; we're going to leave you behind," Ling called back to his young friend, grinning like mad as he chased after Fu. It was early—far too early for a certain ninja-in-training—and the two boys decided it would be a good idea to go for a morning jog.<p>

Of course, a jog to Fu was upwards of ten miles, which Ling, with his reserve of endless energy, had no problem with. For Lan Fan it was a matter of, "Why do I have to go too?"

"Because you should be prepared to run whenever the call comes."

Of course.

Her grandfather was so strict about training her. She would've rather had her mother or father train her, but her father had vanished long ago—off on some mission, who knows when or if he'd be back—and her mother had passed away in a way befitting her clan.

Guarding a Yao's life.

Not that Lan Fan was bitter about that, of course. She had been, at one point in her life, but she was twelve now and knew better. She may not enjoy Fu's training, but she always appreciated his wise words. To guard a Yao was an honorable line of work; the clan honored its workers unlike other clans. There were clans that would use her as a play thing and toss her aside, but with the Yao clan she was accepted as a diligent guard.

They even thought she was good enough to guard their princely candidate.

Fu had initially frowned upon this, suggesting more experienced ninjas, feeling that she wouldn't be read for… something. Something was coming soon, and she would leave Xing with Fu and Ling to travel far away. She didn't know why, but Fu had explained before that he would debrief her when the time came.

In fact, thinking back on the day he had told her the Yao clan's decision to keep her with Ling on his upcoming journey, her training had doubled. She again found herself wondering what could be going on—all she knew was that something was stirring throughout the land, more fights were breaking out, more attempts on Ling's life had been made…

Sadly, her grandfather kept her away from most of the political news of the land, claiming that it would, "dull her senses at key moments."

Heaving a sigh as Ling called back again, she picked up her paste, already breathing hard. She wasn't out of shape, of course. She worked out every day, as her duty required her to always be in prime form, but they had been at this for hours already.

Whatever was going on with the nobles of the land would probably affect her in some way, later on, but for now she only needed to focus on beating out Ling. Her grandfather wasn't shy about scolding her for letting the "fat prince" out-run her.

Not that Ling was actually fat, of course. He was probably in better shape than Lan Fan, which never ceased to frustrate her. It would be nice if he fattened up so she wouldn't look bad, though. Glancing at Ling (who she was quickly closing on), she had to giggle at picturing him overweight even in the slightest.

Oh well, maybe it was for the better. A fit prince could look after himself better, making it easier for her to take care of him, in turn.

Then again… when he ran off to find food it could be a pain and…

"Lan Fan!" Ling hollered in greeting as she finally pulled alongside him. "Good to see you've caught up, now I can get ahead again!" Lan Fan felt her face go red at his closeness. Running together had never created problems like this before; all this blushing nonsense only started up recently.

"Not if I get ahead first," she muttered, pushing herself and racing pass the prince. Getting away from him was the best cure for this silly red-face problem. Although, even after pulling away, she still couldn't see Fu up ahead. The old man could seriously _move_.

And of course, there was a fork in the road coming up.

She halted, looking for signs as to which way the crafty ninja went, but he _was _a ninja after all. A ninja with decades of experience, so an amateur like herself had no prayer of tracing his direction.

"Damn it," she muttered, crossing her arms in annoyance. Ling would catch up in just a few seconds; maybe he knew Grandfather's path. Sure enough she heard his footfall and turned to see him jogging towards her.

"What's the hold up?" he asked, pausing as well, probably just as relieved to take a break. He placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Lan Fan shifted back on her heels.

"Um, I don't know which way he went, do you?" she asked, carefully watching his face. He looked up at her, breathing slowing down, and quirked an eyebrow.

"What, you don't know?" he asked, frowning a bit.

"He never tells me the path so I can't cheat and use short cuts," she admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Oh," he sighed, straightening up. "Hm. Well, this isn't good."

"What?" she nearly screeched. Ninja training tends to teach you to keep your voice subdued though, thankfully.

"I actually lost him a while ago," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "At that last fork. Maybe we should've gone left back there."

"What?" she deadpanned, feeling her mind slowly spiraling to the conclusion: they could've traveled the wrong path for _miles_. "Why would you keep running if you didn't know which way to go?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, stretching his arms until his back popped. "I just like to run."

If she hadn't been trained since birth to protect this boy, she would've killed him right then.

"How are we going to find him?" she asked worriedly, trying to keep in mind what her grandfather had taught her: stay calm, think.

"We could just keep walking until we see something familiar," he suggested easily.

"Maybe," she agreed hesitantly. "I guess sitting here won't really help anything."

"Don't worry," he chirped, heading down the left path. She quickly fell into step behind him. "So long as we stick together, we'll be fine, and Fu won't have a reason to be mad."

"Yes, Sir," she agreed again.

And so they walked…

…Until it started to get dark.

"Prince," she started, barely keeping the annoyance out of her voice. "You have too many stupid ideas."

"That hurts Lan Fan," he deadpanned, still trudging along. "Geez, with me missing you would think someone would be looking for us by now."

"Yes, Grandfather would have at least retrieved me—er, you," she agreed, wondering—not for the first time—where in the world he could be. Sipping tea with the emperor would be the only thing to take priority over Ling and herself.

"I'm hungry," he whined.

"You're always hungry."

"I'm tired."

"Maybe if you hadn't run pointlessly for hours on end you wouldn't be."

"Lan Fan," he stopped walking to turn and look at her, causing her to mimic his actions. "You're mean."

"Keep walking," she sighed, but as she lifted her foot to take another step, he plopped down on the ground, sitting cross-legged on the road. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded a bit more sharply than would probably be considered proper.

"I told you I'm tired," he answered, leaning back on his hands. "Let's just wait. Someone has to come and get me soon, right?"

Lan Fan stood still, foot still in mid-step, thinking about it. What would Fu do? If Ling was tired, then he'd probably accommodate him unless they were involved in a life or death situation. In this case, waiting was all they had to do, and she had plenty of survival training.

Throwing her hands in the air as a sign of surrender she walked off to find some wood, kindling, and other bits to start a fire. Take care of the prince; his health above all else. Walking around on auto-pilot, she gathered the required materials, ignoring Ling's eyes, which burned into her back all the while.

After a fire had been brought to his feet (_spoiled_ _brat_, Lan Fan had thought bitterly), she finally allowed herself to collapse on the opposite side of the firing, silently praying he wouldn't ask for dinner and someone would find him before they needed to sleep. Making more accommodations did not appeal to her at the moment.

"Hey, Lan Fan, come here," he ordered, peering over the fire. "I can't talk to you if I can't see you." She would have pointed out the fact that he really needn't look upon a commoner's face with his status, but decided it best not to start an argument while they were lost. She scooted over, keeping a respectable distance while allowing him to see her.

"You should just save your energy," she told him wisely. "No use wasting breath talking to a commoner." She looked at him out of the corner of his eye, keeping the rules of respect in mind at all times. He was looking at her full-on, as if no one else…was…around…

"And you shouldn't put yourself down," he countered smartly. "Rank doesn't really matter when it's just the two of us, does it?"

"Of course it matters," she responded automatically, the speech given to her by her grandfather repeatedly playing in her mind. "A commoner is a commoner, they do common things. A guard is a guard, they protect those assigned to them. A prince is a prince, they do noble things for those below them. The Yao clan is fair and just, lacking much of the prejudice of other clans, and we should be thankful for that as those who live below them.

Rank will always matter in this world."

"Thanks for the lecture, Teacher," he bowed in false gratification.

"Don't do that," she hissed, feeling her face heat up. "Never bow to those below you!"

"Lan Fan, I know you're just trying to be respectful or whatever, but seriously knock it off," he complained, leaning back and looking up towards the sky. "We're both people, aren't we?"

"Well, yes, but—."

"No buts about it!" he snapped. "I'm so tired of everything I do being decided because of my rank. And I hate how I'm not even allowed to call you my friend in front of my parents because you're not a noble." He paused and scowled at the sky. "_Prince Ling, she's just a bodyguard, you shouldn't even mind her,_" he whined in a nasally voice, imitating his mother, Lan Fan guessed.

"She's right, Prince," she answered, hoping to steer him away from any dangerous ideologies. The last thing this nation needed was a disruptive ruler. She felt a short laugh escape her lips: she talked as if he would certainly be the next ruler; there wasn't a doubt in her mind. Grandfather's mental training actually worked.

"What's so funny about that?" he pouted, still studying the stars.

"Nothing, Prince, I was thinking of something else," she answered honestly. They lapsed into a peaceful silence, with Lan Fan watching the flames leap about and Ling watching the stars shift into their place in the sky.

"Hey, Lan Fan, look at this," he whispered, gesturing for her to come closer. She scooted over maybe an inch before he gave out a frustrated sigh and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She yelped a bit in response, her face turning red. "Look," he commanded again, pointing towards the stars.

"What am I looking at?" she asked, striving not to think about the heat radiating off him as it sent a shiver down her spine.

"The stars," he deadpanned, earning him a quick glare. "Look, tell me something, what's the difference between that one and that one," he asked, pointing to two of the stars.

"I'm not sure which two you mean," she answered hesitantly.

"Those two—they look different, right?" he asked again, straining his finger upwards, as if he could catch them and bring them closer to show her.

"All of the stars look the same to me," she responded honestly. "I've never been good at telling the difference."

"They all look the same because they _are _the same," Ling pointed out, lowering his arm. "A star is a star… does it matter if one burns brighter or grows larger? They're all stars, and we may not know much about them, I think they all start and end the same way."

"I'm not sure I understand where you're going with this," Lan Fan commented, her hands twisting together as she continued to do her best to ignore his hand resting on her hip. It was hard to focus on the stars with him right next to her like this.

"The stars are like us, Lan Fan," he whispered. "They want to live the best they can, for as long as they can, but in the end they know."

"Know what?"

"That they were all born the same way, and they'll all die the same way," he concluded. "No matter who burns brighter or who grows bigger. We're the same way." Lan Fan thought about this for a long minute as they sat next to each other, plenty warm despite the feeling of winter creeping towards them.

"I guess you're right," she admitted grudgingly. "But stars don't think like us, and so long as that's true, then it will always be true that you're a prince and I'm a commoner."

"Even though we die the same?" he asked, his eyes finding their way to her face. She returned his gaze unthinkingly and answered automatically.

"Of course."

"Did you ever consider, for even a moment," he started, leaning towards her, "that I'm no better than you? I was born the same way, I breathe the same way, I hurt the same way, I love the same way, and as much as I hate to admit it, someday I'll die the same way."

Before she could think up a response to that, he leaned forward and placed a gentle, brief kiss on her lips.

"And I'll always feel the same way."

* * *

><p>The next morning Fu got up early, grumbling about how useless those two could be. He had thought his granddaughter would at least recognize the area and find her way out before he was forced to find her—and the prince, of course.<p>

He made his way through the woods—a short distance from Ling's own backyard—to find the two troublemakers fast asleep in each other's arms next to a burnt out campfire. Letting out a sigh he shook his head, glad that he decided not to bring anyone else along to look for them.

"I can't believe this," he muttered. "She fell asleep during her watch."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_I wanted to leave the bit with Fu at the end off, because I thought it was super sweet without it, but it didn't feel very conclusive; what did you think?_


	8. Royai IV

**A/N: **_Part two of GeneralGeneric's request; thanks for the help with this one, I hope it does you justice! Enjoy!_

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Soldier Promises_

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><p>Berthold Hawkeye told Roy Mustang to behave in his house.<p>

Roy Mustang thought this meant not using alchemy and breaking things.

So when Roy Mustang met Riza Hawkeye…

…He did not behave.

"That's enough for today, Roy," Berthold grumbled, looking in disappointment at the piece that the boy had just crafted. Amateur hour.

"Yes, Sir," Roy answered, beginning clean up without further prompting. He bit back the anger he wanted to hurtle at his master. Lately it seemed as if nothing he did was good enough for him. At this rate, Master would never teach him his secret alchemy.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Berthold asked, surprising the young Mustang. Berthold was no push-over or a soft man by any means; one wouldn't dare call him sentimental. However, somewhere deep down, buried after all these years of research, he still had a remnant of fatherly instinct about him.

"Of course, Sir," Roy answered, nodding as he finished cleaning up. Because Berthold did not praise unless he truly felt the need, he couldn't decline his dinner invitation. It was his way of showing his apprentice that he _was _proud of his progress, but something else plagued his mind, keeping him cold and distant from his pupil.

"My daughter should have dinner just about ready," Berthold muttered, clomping upstairs with Roy nearly tripping as he chased after him.

"You have a daughter, Sir?" he asked in shock. They didn't frequently talk about their personal lives—in fact they never did—but Berthold did not seem like the type to be raising a daughter. A son, perhaps, but even that was pushing what Roy believed to be the "Facts of Berthold."

Fact one: he was not a socially open person, hence dinner was a very, very special treat that Roy must attend with perfect manners.

Easy enough—until he saw his master's daughter.

_Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare… _he repeated in his head as he caught a glimpse of her.

She was just setting down the plates and moving the serving dishes to the table when they entered, her eyes carefully lowered. Her shoulders sagged slightly, hearing her father enter, and Roy couldn't help but wonder at their relationship. The girl seemed almost afraid of him, but when she looked up she smiled brilliantly and greeted them both, as if the extra guess was to be expected.

"Father, how was practice today?" she asked politely, pulling out a chair for him before taking her own seat. Roy hesitantly sat down on the seat to the right of her father. He felt like he was seriously intruding on something he shouldn't.

"Fine," the man answered shortly.

"That's good," she answered with another smile as the two started to serve themselves. Roy peeked at her from the corner of his eye as he fetched some food for himself and an odd thought struck him: that was a fake smile. He shook his head and started eating after Berthold had taken a bite.

It was presumptuous of him to judge her smiles, when he didn't even know her name.

"Roy's progressing rather steadily," he continued after a long pause, surprising Roy and, by the looks of it, surprising his daughter as well.

"That's wonderful," she encouraged again. "Have you taught him much beyond the basics?" Her father looked up at her sharply, their eyes met, and a silent communication passed between the two, which left Roy baffled as he continued to pick at his meal.

"He's advancing quickly," Berthold conceded, allowing the slightest hint of pride slip into his voice—a sound almost impossible to hear by untrained ears. "He does me a certain degree of pride. I know at least I have an eye for talent."

"I'm glad you found him," the girl said, bowing her head and focusing on her food. Roy swallowed his mouthful of food awkwardly. The tension in the atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a dull knife. He didn't know the extent of their relationship, but something was definitely going on.

The meal continued in silence from that point on, and at the end Berthold left early, muttering something about needing to work. The two teens were left there, finishing their meal without a word between them. After Roy finished he leaned back and studied the girl, curiosity being a natural trait of any alchemist.

Her shoulders had relaxed since her father left, her head held a bit higher, as if his very presence was a weight on her entire body. She finished and moved to pick up his plate as well as her father's, but he stopped her, standing up so quick he nearly knocked the chair over.

"It's okay, I'll help," he quickly explained, feeling his ears go a bit red.

"You don't need to," she muttered. "You're a guest."

"All the more reason for me to help," he responded, she looked up at him, her eyes unreadable.

"Fine."

They cleared the table, Roy wiped it down as she started to put away the food, and for a few minutes they worked together in an easy silence. As he helped scrub the dishes, Roy had an odd thought occur to him: _We would make a good team. _

It wasn't a new thought. When he met people he found himself automatically assessing them: their strengths, weaknesses, skills, and their ability to work well with him. It was an odd habit, but he had fallen into it long ago as a sort of hobby.

This girl, though, he felt an odd truth to the statement with. They didn't bump into each other or get into each other's way… it was as if they had been working together for all their lives. He couldn't help but compare this to how it was with Berthold. He respected his master a great deal, of course, but the man always felt cold and distant. They rarely saw eye to eye on anything.

His daughter was the opposite though. She held a certain kind of caring and warmth. If he could work up the guts to say anything to her, he would bet that they would have a lot in common. He paused and looked around; apparently they were finished cleaning up.

"I'll escort you out," the girl offered, walking towards the exit. Roy followed a bit reluctantly. She opened the door, allowing him to step out, but he paused just outside and turned around.

"What's your name?" he asked hesitantly. She looked at him in surprise, as if she didn't realize he could actually talk. Then again, he hadn't been very chatty during dinner, or even after her father left.

"Riza," she answered, the tips of her ears going red. Roy found himself smiling a bit at this, the blush encouraging him.

"That's a beautiful name," he said easily, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Are you always around when I'm here?"

"Yes, of course," she answered as if it was totally obvious; where else would she be? "But I usually leave you two alone when you're working," she explained.

"I would like it if I could see you more," he admitted, feeling his own ears go a bit red as he thought of what he said. "I mean, if you wanted to watch us practice or talk to me. I don't bite." She giggled a bit at that and he felt his heart skip a beat.

"My father was right, you are a bit of a flirt," she remarked, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stop her chuckles. Roy felt his mouth open in surprise, not sure how to defend himself. Why in the world had Berthold told his daughter that—?

"He's probably just worried that I might steal you away from him," he answered, grinning good-naturedly. "It's important to protect your loved ones."

"Very true," she answered, returning his grin with her own gentle smile. He felt his heart beat faster, and something told him that her smile was one of those rare, beautiful sights that he would work for without even realizing it.

"So, will I see you again?" he asked hesitantly, wishing he could have thought of a better way to phrase the question. Of course he would see her again; she lived here and he worked here. But maybe what he meant was… would he have the chance to talk to her again? Maybe without Berthold watching over them.

"I think so," she answered elusively. And Berthold had called _him _a flirt. He took a step towards her and grabbed her hand impulsively, placing a quick peck on her cheek.

"You had something on your face," he smirked, releasing her hand and taking a step back. She stared at him with wide eyes, her blush evident even in the semi-darkness. "See you around Riza," he said, turning and walking away.

"Is that a promise, Roy Mustang?" she called after he had walked down the stairs. He turned back towards her, still grinning.

"For as long as you want it to be," he answered easily, continuing on down the path towards his home. She didn't say anything else after that, but he felt her eyes on his back as he walked away.

He could certainly get used to having her around.


	9. Oliviles I

**A/N: **_This one comes from FlyingHighDefyingGravity, who suggested something we haven't seen yet and something I personally never considered. Thanks for the interesting perspective; enjoy!_

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Cold Shoulder_

* * *

><p>In the aftermath of the Promised Day nearly every had a slight change about them. The ones who survived, wiping away tears, marched on to a new day. A hopeful day. The optimism of everyone in Central was incredible. Those who witnessed Edward Elric's final transmutation would remember it as the amazing conclusion to a day they nearly lost everything.<p>

Most people found themselves hopeful. Most found themselves mourning.

One person found herself alone, trudging back to the Briggs Mountains, without anyone beside her. Not that she openly minded.

Miles had felt bad about watching her walk away that day, of course, but what could he do? He had been re-assigned. Ordered to follow Colonel Mustang to Ishval where they, along with Scar, could begin the undoubtedly slow healing process that would allow Amestris to open the doors to future projects.

Such as resolving the tensions with Drachma.

Miles just had to keep that in mind: today he worked for his ancestors' honor, tomorrow he worked for the honor of his commander, the infamous Ice Queen.

Still, it had been hard, so hard, to watch her march off with the remainder of their troops, not bothering to wish him luck, of course. Just marching off without a backwards look. Even surrounded by all those troops, though, he could still see it in the way her shoulders slouched just a touch. The way her lips were twisted in a deeper scowl than usual.

She kept the ideals of survival of the fittest in mind always and she never allowed her heart to take over her demeanor. In public, anyway. But Miles knew, for a fact, that she was suffering a great deal as she headed back to the frozen mountain they called home.

After all, she'd lost not only Buccaneer but she'd also had to give away Miles. Perhaps she hadn't been forced to give him away, but that was what made him feel so guilty as he had watched her walk off. She _knew _he wanted to do this more than anything—help Mustang and Scar rebuild the Ishvalan community—and so she had let him travel to the east.

Just thinking about it made him cringe. It felt almost like a betrayal. He had opted out of returning to Briggs to go instead with her nemesis Colonel Mustang, just for the sake of his own fulfillment. And even more than the guilt, shame, and general betrayal there was something else…

He was _pissed_.

How could she just let him go like it didn't even matter? Who in the world was going to be second in command without him or Buccaneer there? What would she do without him, her personal aide, her knight? Why did she let him go so easily when it was so obvious that he needed to return to Briggs with her?

And why hadn't he chosen to go back with her?

Restoring Ishval was highly important to him, of course, but he knew, deep down, that Scar and Mustang could handle it—they had a more personal connection to Ishval than he. After all, his family was killed in Ishval—but only the small part of it that was Ishvalan. He himself had been in the military at the time, far away from Ishval.

Mustang had a debt to pay; Scar had a promise to fulfill.

He had to cling to his roots.

Not that it was a bad thing, and surely Olivier would have been far more disappointed in him if he had chosen not to go. That didn't stop him from feeling bad though. It felt as if he had abandoned his commander, broken her trust.

And that ate him up inside.

"Major Miles." He broke away from his thoughts to see none other than the revered Colonel Mustang walking towards him.

"Sir," he answered, saluting.

"At ease," Mustang dismissed, carefully observing him for a moment before speaking up. "Major, has something been bothering you lately?"

"No, of course not, Sir," Miles answered quickly. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been keeping to yourself these last couple of weeks," he explained, eyes unreadable, but still giving off a feeling of some looming important point, waiting to be made. "If something's bothering you, I want you to know that you can always talk to me. I am your superior commander now, after all." Miles visibly flinched at this and Mustang smirked.

"It's nothing really—."

"It's Armstrong isn't it?" the colonel asked wisely, noting Mile's surprised face. Although both men had been known to cover their emotions with skill, Mustang had been doing it much longer and with much more skill.

"Major General Armstrong?" he asked in confusion.

"Of course, her brother has nothing to do with you," Mustang answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Step into my office, Miles. I've wanted to talk about this with you for a while now." Reluctantly Miles followed his current commanding officer into his so-called "office."

Of course, they were in Ishval, rebuilding—literally—from the ground up. The closest things to buildings they had were tents. Even if Mustang's was an impressive piece of canvas, it was still a tent. Mustang entered first and sat down on one of the simple wooden chairs at a table, gesturing for Miles to take the other chair opposite him.

"You have a great work ethic, Major," Mustang began, leaning back casually. "The first few months we worked here, you were diligent. So much so I feared you might over-work yourself, and I worried I'd have to explain to Major General Armstrong how I managed to kill her subordinate during restructuring.

"But these last couple of weeks, as I mentioned earlier, you seem to be slacking a bit. No. Slacking is not the right word… you've had a far-away look in your eyes. Missing Briggs perhaps?" He held up a hand to silence Miles before he could protest. "Or missing someone _at _Briggs?"

"I miss all of the men at Briggs," Miles defended loftily. "I've lived in the mountains so long that I do feel out of place in a desert, that much is true, however I wouldn't go so far as to say that missing Briggs is the fundamental reason for this so-called 'far-away look.'"

"So you do admit to having that look, correct?" Mustang countered, smirking in what Miles assumed to be triumph.

"Perhaps," he admitted grudgingly. "I apologize for it, and I will do my best not to have that look in your presence."

"Now, now, Major," Mustang sighed holding up his hands in a gesture akin to surrender. "No need to be like that. We're practically old friends, considering how chummy I am with Armstrong."

"It would be wise of you not to compare yourself to her friends," Miles warned in an icy tone that threw the other man off-guard for a moment.

"Of course," he placated. "But I can't help but wonder if it would be wise to make a generous assumption."

"How generous would this assumption be?" Miles asked carefully, more on his toes now that Olivier had become a bigger part of the conversation.

"May we talk off the record for a moment?" Mustang asked, avoiding the question, but continuing when he saw the untrusting look Miles gave him. "For both of our sakes."

"Of course," Miles granted stiffly. His posture indicated a ramrod backbone, tension pouring off his shoulders. Mustang's casualness seemed to do nothing but keep him on guard.

"I love someone I shouldn't," the colonel explained. Miles looked at him as if he had lost his mind. What did that have to do with _anything_? "She's someone in the military, and a long-time friend, though I know that's no excuse.

I love her, yet every day I wake up I have to take a moment to deal with the fact that I can never tell her that."

"I'm honored you trust me enough to tell me that, Sir, but I don't see what that has to do with—," Miles started to question his superior, but Mustang cut him off once more.

"I don't trust you—this is off the record remember?" He paused to smirk slyly at his subordinate. "But I tell you this because I think you find yourself in a similar situation."

"There's no place for love in a Brigg's man, Sir," Miles pointed out on reflex.

"You're not _just _a Briggs man though, are you?" Mustang leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, resting his chin on folded hands. "Not to sound sappy, but Briggs or not, a man is a man and emotions are hard to chain."

Miles glared at the colonel, not enjoying the road this conversation traveled on. Not that he could tell the colonel out-right that he loved Olivier Armstrong. No one in their right mind would ever _dare _say that out loud. Still, something in him stirred in her presence, and he had wondered if it was purely dedication. Could something small grow from the long, lonely winter nights of Briggs?

Comradeship, friendship, he had seen it all come from Briggs, but he still fought with the question of anything more. It just didn't seem possible. Especially not with someone like Olivier. She would be the last person for that to happen to—at least, coming from her. But towards her? Most men were too afraid.

Then again, he wasn't most men. He was her knight, and he needed to return to her side at Briggs where he belonged; emotions be damned. Leave those to Colonel Mustang and his idealists.

"Sir, I believe I've done my part in the restructuring of Ishval," Miles spoke up, receiving a cocked eyebrow from Colonel Mustang, obviously not expecting this calm, calculated response. "All that's left is the physical rebuilding, but the tensions between our people are quickly receding, or at least as quickly as we could hope for. I'll send some Briggs men to help with the physical labor, if you'd like."

"Do you honestly feel your part in this is done?" Mustang asked, a slight smirk returning to the corner of his lips.

"No, Ishval still needs ambassadors," Miles answered wisely. "But I've gathered many of what remains of our people. I've assured Scar be institutionalized as a teacher and not a criminal. I've personally spoken with nearby villages and towns to assure any complaints be sent to the right person—the person who will best resolve any conflicts for both sides. No, that's not right. There are no sides…

"Just human beings."

"Well put, Major," Mustang conceded, bowing his head slightly. "I'll write up the papers to have you dismissed and relocated accordingly shortly. Until then, bid farewell to this place for now. No doubt you'll be visiting sometime in the future, though."

"Yes, Sir," Miles answered, standing up and snapping a salute, which Mustang returned, effectively dismissing him. After Miles had exited the tent, the colonel couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

"Can you believe that, Hughes?" he asked the ceiling, closing his eyes as a rare smile softened his features. "Now I'm the one trying to get people married off."

* * *

><p>The cold winds of Briggs Mountains were sharp, fierce, and wildly embracing. Miles had forgotten how nice it was to have the cold sting your face raw. He had forgotten how much like home the steel and blood fortress felt.<p>

He stomped up the stairs, heading for Major General Armstrong's office, having been told by another officer that she was currently residing there. A few men stopped and saluted him in greeting, some even with slight smirks on their faces.

_Home, sweet home. _

He knocked on the office door, waiting for the call of approval he usually received, but instead came an irritated female voice saying, "Go to hell."

"Sir?" Miles called. "It's me, Major Miles." The door swung open almost instantly, scaring the major.

"Major Miles, what are you doing in Briggs?" she demanded icily. Instead of answering, Miles leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, holding them there for only a brief moment before taking a step back.

"I've returned from Ishval," he answered simply.

"And what the _hell_ was that just now?" she demanded, fingers twitching towards her sword. He had approximately three _generous_ seconds to answer.

"I learned much during the restructuring. That's simply an ancient Ishvalan greeting," he answered smoothly, his face a mask of pure honesty.

"Hmph. We're not in Ishval; don't let it happen again," she snapped, turning around and slamming the door in his face. He smirked and walked off, back to where he knew his quarters lay untouched despite his absence.

He belonged here, at her side, whether or not he ever truly belonged _with _her. Time would tell, and at Briggs they had nothing but time.

Major General Olivier Armstrong, meanwhile stomped back to her chair and plopped down, shifting through some papers on her desk irritably for a moment. After she knew Miles was long gone she cracked a grin. It was good to see him back at Briggs; she had known Ishval wouldn't suit him for long.

Although it had seemed to teach him the bad habit of lying to one's superior commander—or maybe that had been Mustang's doing.

She had studied Ishvalan culture on her own and at several points in time due to her military rank and circumstances.

_Ancient traditions my ass_.


	10. LingLan III

**A/N: **_From the mind of Hawkeyeflame1921. This chapter contains a little more language than usual, just to warn you._

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Lonely Humans _

* * *

><p>They had both known the journey across the desert would be grueling. The fact that they had a corpse and a small child with them made that obvious enough, but they didn't think they would complicate the trip for one another to boot.<p>

Ling remained silent as they traveled to the edge of Amestris, stopping only near the border to stock up on supplies before engaging the vast wasteland of sand before them. Lan Fan, during that time, hadn't been inclined to speak up or prod him; after all, she was dealing with all that had happened as well.

It pained the two teens to admit it, but May seemed to be handling this stress best of all. She seemed almost pleased with the aftermath of the Promised Day. Then again, she hadn't lost anyone.

Once they embarked on the desert leg of their return trip, it started to grow painfully obvious that the two were doing their best to avoid and ignore each other. Whether they did it on purpose or on accident was hard to tell, until one night when a curious May started asking a frustrated Lan Fan questions.

They sat around a fire as they took their break for the night. In a little while they would start moving again—best to move at night to keep their blood flowing and warm, but May needed the break and the other two weren't about to complain.

Ling had left to have some time away from the group—using the poor excuse of needing to stretch. He stood out in the distance, out of earshot, but within visibility, staring at the moon as it hovered above the horizon. Lan Fan let out a defeated sigh as she watched him.

"What's wrong?" May piped up, startling the elder girl.

"It's nothing," Lan Fan muttered, still looking out towards Ling.

"What's going on between you two?" the girl asked, causing Lan Fan to reluctantly turn her attention from her young lord.

"I'm his bodyguard; it's my duty to watch him at all times," she explained, ever patient.

"That's not what I meant." May crossed her arms and stared down Lan Fan as best she could, considering her small size. "I meant, why are you two not talking? You seemed like a couple at one point, but now it's as if you don't even want to look each other in the eye."

"Perceptive for a child, aren't you?" Lan Fan asked, completely ignoring the accusation otherwise.

"Don't brush me off," May demanded, standing up and causing the flames of the small fire to flicker. "Come on, we're practically sisters, right? You can tell me!"

"That's very kind of you, but this isn't something for children," Lan Fan responded, turning away from the girl, who plopped down with a _humph_. Lan Fan didn't mean to act cold or rude towards the child, although no doubt she was coming across as condescending.

The thing was… She herself wasn't sure what was going on. Young Lord had been so silent and cold lately, but not in the same way he had been when Greed polluted his body. There was the familiar warmth of the old Ling still burning within him, but at the same time, she could sense the painful birth of a new side of him—one she didn't recognize or understand.

And that scared her more than anything.

How was she supposed to protect him if she didn't know what he was thinking? How did she keep an eye on him if he became unpredictable? What would she do if he lost his need for her? What if he replaced her with finer guards once they returned?

_I couldn't even keep my own damn grandfather alive._

"No tears, Lan Fan."

Her head snapped up in surprise to see Ling standing before her, a slight scowl on his lips, hands in his pockets. She couldn't help but wonder if he realized he had picked up that uncaring look from Greed. Glancing around she also realized that May had left, presumably giving them a chance to talk alone.

Perceptive child.

"Tears?" she asked after a moment. He reached down and rubbed his thumb over her cheek, his touch causing her to flinch. He offered up his thumb and she peered at it. Sure enough, liquid stained his digit. "I'm sorry, Young Lord."

"Can we cut the 'Young Lord' crap until we get back to Xing?" he asked in irritation, taking a seat next to her. "It's bad enough I'm supposed to feel like I won something. I don't need anyone rubbing it in."

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure what exactly she was apologizing for. He heaved a sigh and buried his head in his hands.

"It's my fault," he mumbled to himself.

"You—Ling?" she asked haltingly, reaching a hand out towards him. Suddenly he slammed his fists on his knees, throwing his head back to glare at the sky. Lan Fan pulled her hand back quickly as she saw tears escaping and falling freely on the desert sand.

"Fuck," he growled, clenching his teeth. "I should be happy right now, so why not? I got the damn immortality, I won the damn race, so why…" he trailed off and lowered his eyes to look at her, tears still spilling out. "Why does it hurt… so _damn_ much… every time I look at you?"

Lan Fan sat there, unsure of how to respond. All the pain in his eyes… how did she deal with that? How did she make it better? She had never been good at dealing with emotions, no matter what kind they may be. She felt tears prick at the corners of her own eyes, in response to his sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry, if I've failed you in some way," she apologized bowing her head. He clenched his teeth and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Don't you dare apologize to me," he commanded, rushing in and pressing his lips roughly against hers. All of his raw emotion and pain exploded into the kiss as he worked to get a response out of her, but instead—against her own wishes and his—she pushed him away.

"I have as much reason as you to apologize," she explained quietly as he gazed at her, hurt evident. His hand dropped from her face as he lowered his eyes mournfully.

"What do you have to apologize for?" he demanded softly. "For losing your grandfather? Do you even realize it was my fault he died? For losing Greed? That was my fault too."

"Is this really about my grandfather or is it just about Greed?" she exclaimed sharply, causing him to look up in surprise. He'd never seen Lan Fan look so angry before, not at him anyway. "My grandfather died for you like he was supposed to. Don't pretend you care just to cover up the fact that you're really mourning that homunculus!"

"Pretend?" he echoed in astonishment. "Fu was like another father to me—a better father than I ever had. It kills me inside; every time I think about the fact that it's _my fault_ we're carrying him home in a body bag!" He reached out and gripped her shoulders firmly, anger brewing in his features. She glared back at him fearlessly, her grief for her grandfather overcoming her respect for him.

"And what about Greed?" she demanded coldly. His glare softened and his grip on her shoulders loosened slightly.

"Greed never replaced the importance of the two of you," he whispered. "But he was like a brother to me. We shared the same mind for a time and that—that feeling…" he trailed off and choked off a sob as his eyes became misty. "You have no idea," he gasped. "You can never know what it's like to have your best friend torn from your mind." He gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the tears.

Lan Fan wordlessly leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him as his hands fell away from her shoulders.

"It's going to be okay Ling," she whispered, placing as much comfort as she could offer into those few words. Ling finally gave in, hugging her tightly with all the pain he had locked away during their journey. His sobs shook both their bodies as he finally shared his burden.

Lan Fan bowed her head and allowed him to take as much comfort from her presence as he could, but deep down she knew he was right: she could never truly know that feeling.

That horrendous feeling when something so important was taken away in the blink of an eye. That she could understand. Mentally speaking, losing her innocence had been a painful experience, losing her grandfather, even more so. But what could it be like to lose who you are in the inside, and lose someone dear to you, at the same moment? She could never even begin to imagine.

Ling stopped sobbing first, but he still shook with the rush of emotion. His breathing started to slow, and then finally, he lifted his head from her shoulder to look her in the eye. This time when he leaned in towards her, he was gentle, cautious, but much more himself.

He pressed his lips softly against hers and she responded in kind, silently praying that he would grow stronger—triumph over this great weight placed on his shoulders. He broke away after a moment, eyes still misty, but now under control. She smiled softly at him, feeling like he had shown a bit of his old self at last.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to pull all of that on you." She leaned into his chest, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay," she answered quietly. "I know it hurts, but it's okay. You're going to be a great emperor, and you're going to make sure no one else ever has to go through what you had to."

"What makes you so sure?" he asked, pulling her into his lap, needing to feel like he could protect even one person.

"You're greedy," she explained easily, feeling sleep drifting in on her. "You'll want to keep that experience all to yourself." She felt him press his lips to the top of her head and let out a slow, measured breath.

"Damn greedy," he agreed.

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><p><strong>AN: **_Hey my LingxLan/general readers! Please, please tell me what you think of this one! The tone was quite a bit different, but I think it's my favorite so far. Tell me if I'm crazy and imagining things!_


	11. AlMay I

**A/N: **_Hey all, thanks again for your support throughout this series, today we have another new couple thanks to Resident-Asian. Enjoy the AlMay, excuse the American spelling. _

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Sweet Kids_

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><p>"I guess I'm off," Al nodded happily, grabbing his bags as the train rolled into Risembool. Ed looked away, feigning indifference, but Al knew he was just hiding his emotions. The brothers had worked together for so long, to be separated willingly now wasn't appealing, exactly, but it was something that had to be done.<p>

"Good luck out there Al," Ed muttered, scuffing the toe of his boots in the dirt of the train station. "If you see Ling, give him my regards. Hell, give that annoying Chang girl my regards too. Just…"

"Brother?"

"Be careful, all right?" he grouched. "I'm not spending any more of my life trying to hunt down another body for you." Al grinned as his brother kept his head turned away, probably feeling ashamed from the show of emotion. Typical Brother.

"Don't worry," Al comforted him, grinning himself despite the fact that he would be leaving for a potentially indefinite period of time. "I have my alchemy, I'm picking up some friends before I head out, and I'll be sure to call as often as I can."

"Friends?" Ed asked confused, finally turning towards his brother.

"It's a long story," Al chuckled nervously. The train pulled to a stop in front of them and he climbed on board. "I'm off!"

"See you around, little brother," Ed said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't get into any trouble in Xing."

"I won't, I won't" Al sighed, but his grin stayed in place. He would miss Brother and Winry and Pinako and even Den, but he needed to do this, without a doubt. Speaking of Winry… "Oh, and Brother, don't forget to confess to Winry before you leave—in fact, you can't leave until you do!"

"Wh-Al!" Ed screamed, looking like he would've attacked his brother if not for the fact that the train had started to roll off.

"Good luck! I expect to be her brother-in-law by time I get back—and an uncle!" Al called back mischievously. He watched an angry Ed until his brother disappeared in the distance. He faced forward in his seat and sunk into the cushions. He would make a few stops before heading to Xing…

…That had been a couple of weeks ago.

Now he, along with Jerso and Zampano, found themselves wandering through the streets of the biggest city in Xing. Supposedly the emperor himself resided within the palace here, but they hadn't quite made it that far yet. There was a small problem they had overlooked when traveling to Xing that delayed them now.

None of them really spoke the language.

Alphonse had read up on the language and knew the basics, but he was still far from fluent. Why hadn't Brother pointed this out to him before he left? Jerso and Zampano, though, were totally lost. As they had often griped since they arrived, they couldn't even order food.

Al decided the only way to solve this problem was to learn the language enough to find their way to May and Ling, or whoever they found first, because surely where one was, there was another. Marching up to the palace with his Xerxes heritage evident hadn't gone over so well, though.

"Back away foreigner," one of the guards had commanded, lowering his spear. He spoke in formal, broken Amestrian. "We will take your life." The odd group had backed away, not wanting to cause a fight—or at least, Al hadn't. His chimera companions were convinced they could take the entire Xing military.

"So what do we do now?" Jerso grouched, slouching against the nearby building while people walked by giving them odd looks.

"I hate to sound like Ed, but maybe we could sneak in and find Ling or May before the guards find us," Al answered hesitantly.

"Yeah! That's more like it!" Zampano cheered. "Let's do it!"

"I agree; we haven't seen any action in a long time!" Jerso growled in expectation. Al held up his hands, calming the two.

"We're _sneaking _in, meaning if we do everything right we _won't_ be fighting," he explained, staring them both down until they muttered a bitter "Yes, Sir."

With that, they headed back over to the palace, careful not to seem suspicious as they cased the place. At first it seemed like there was no hope of getting in without at least fighting a few guards, but at the last minute—just as they were about to call it off—Al found the weak spot.

It was actually near the front of the building, a blind spot—a small one—that would be perfect for entering. Al even dared to jump over in broad daylight and, much to his delight, found that no one arrested him upon touching down on the other side. He shared his confirmation with his companions and they waited until nightfall.

Getting over the blind spot had been easy, of course, but they hadn't planned any further ahead.

_Impulsiveness must run in the family,_ Al thought in slight depression. He shook the thought off and led the chimeras across the massive front yard. It was a long, slow process as they had to continuously dodge out of the way of guards. Then came a moat.

Just like Ling to have a moat in front of his palace. That didn't even make sense in a place like Xing.

"Well, at least we can all swim, right?" Zampano asked. The other two nodded, but Al pointed out the real problem.

"Even if we can swim across, that doesn't automatically lower the gate or open any doors for that matter." The three sat crouched in the bushes for a while, wondering what their next step would be. They couldn't go back now, but at the same time they couldn't necessarily wait until someone just happened to open the—.

_Crash!_

All three men jumped as the gate suddenly lowered, and to Al's infinite glee, who should be riding out but May Chang herself?

He ran out, not thinking about the fact that they were supposed to be covert.

"May!" he cried gleefully, jogging over to her. She smiled back at him, tears in her eyes.

"Al—!" Suddenly twenty guards piled on top of Al, holding their spears to his body at various points.

"It's okay, My Lady," one of the guards called, his spear pointed at Al's throat. "We've stopped the intruder."

"Hey! Get off him!" Jerso yelled as he and Zampano charged out of their hiding place to help Al. Several of the guards broke away from the boy to attack the new intruders, but the chimeras handled them easily. Just as it looked like a full-blown fight was about to break out, May screamed.

"Stop it right now!" The guards all froze. Zampano punched one of the frozen men "accidently." May hopped off her horse and marched over to the brawlers. "You men, let Alphonse go _now_."

"Th-thanks May," Al chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head where he'd made a personal acquaintance with the ground.

"Guards, leave us," May commanded. "Zampano and Jerso are you two okay?" she asked in a softer voice once the guards had left. When they nodded she sighed in relief and turned back to Al, an angry scowl on her face.

"Sorry about that May, but you wouldn't believe how hard it is to get in touch with you if you don't speak Xingese." Al smiled at her and her anger melted, replaced by tears as she flung herself at him.

"I've missed you so much!" she cried. "And you risked your life to see me!"

"I don't know about _risk_," Zampano muttered. "We had everything under—." Jerso elbowed him, holding up a finger to his lips.

"It was nothing really," Al shrugged off, blushing a bit. The two chimeras exchanged a glance. They had just come all this way to learn about alkahestry, right?

"You're so brave!" she squealed, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek, which did nothing to help the young man's blush. "Come inside! You have to see how funny Ling looks in his new emperor clothing! Oh and we should have a big feast to celebrate your safe journey…"

Well, at least they got free food out of it, whatever the _real _reason for coming to Xing was. The two chimeras followed the happy twosome inside, stomachs growling.


	12. Royai V

**A/N: **_Hey guys, this one's another one from Hawkeyeflame1921 (the only reviewer to request more than two in one review). Enjoy the Royai!_

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Amorous Ambition_

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><p>Roy Mustang lounged on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.<p>

Staring as much as blind man could.

He listened to the sounds of the hospital, not having much else he could do. He considered the fact that he really wouldn't be able to see anything right now, even if he had his sight. The hospital must be fairly dark by now, or at least in this room it must be, because Riza had fallen asleep some hours ago.

Her soft breathing had been his only company for a while.

He reached a hand up and felt his own face, wondering again at the sudden darkness that forced itself on him. One moment he could see everything, the next he found himself unable to even imagine ever seeing again.

If he had known he would have lost his eyesight, what would he have done beforehand? Of course, it wasn't so severe as dying. If he died today, his list of regrets would be much longer than the one he currently had for losing his eye sight.

What would he have seen one last time if he had known what was going to happen?

Paperwork. That had been the first thing to come to mind, and he had burst into hysteric laughter at the thought. Riza had proceeded to ask him what in the world was so damn funny, so he kept in mind after that to keep quiet as he made his list.

The sun came next. Of course, he'd never really looked directly into the sun, but now considering such a vast source of brilliant light, he wondered if he could dare to look at it for just a brief moment.

Water after that, maybe because his mind was already on natural things, but the more he thought about it, the more he missed it. Something that had the potential to make him totally useless, something that composed seventy percent of his body, something vital to survival for all of mankind, yet he had never spent the time to truly study it or watch it.

Then his mind took a surprising twist and he started thinking about _people_.

He never thought he would miss seeing his men come into work every day or watching their goofy antics.

He certainly never imagined feeling bad about not seeing Fullmetal again… he hadn't been able to see him with his arm back, or Alphonse with his body back. And he never would. Every time he talked to Alphonse he could only picture that giant suit of armor, even after being told that he had been returned to his original body.

How the hell was he supposed to know what that looked like?

And then, maybe most surprising of all, he thought of Riza. At first it wasn't that surprising, because after all, she was one of his most loyal supporters. He had known her for far, far too long; they had grown up together.

Then his thoughts turned more towards a logical point.

He couldn't lead a nation blind—not in any sense of the word—Grumman had already come in and talked to him about his medical discharge. He wouldn't be able to serve in the military anymore. His entire life, all his ambitions, wasted. Years, wasted.

The thought drove him to the brink of insanity. What was he without the military? What was he supposed to do with the rest of his life? How could he ever fulfill his promise to Hughes? To everyone he had ever told, ever-so-defiantly, _I will make this world better_?

There was, for however brief a time, a moment where everything truly crashed down around him. It broke his heart and shattered his mind. But then, he took a deep, slow breath, and started to think again—forced himself to think past what he lost—to what he had gained.

There were other jobs in the world. Fullmetal had mentioned, earlier on, that he would like to pick up traveling again someday, but he had business in Risembool first. Normal people, outside of the military, people he had fought constantly for… they lived each day without being in the military. Surely he could do that too.

They had other reasons to get up every morning; they had things they valued that had nothing to do with rank. Fullmetal, the brat, he even realized this before him. He knew—he knew _damn _well—that when he sacrificed his alchemic abilities the state wouldn't want him anymore.

Yet he did it freely, of his own will.

For his brother.

For the only family he had left in the world.

And to be able to return to Risembool, and maybe—just maybe—change that.

He hated to admit it, but his situation actually bore some resemblance to Fullmetal's. He had lost his real parents long before he could remember them. He had Madam Christmas, his adoptive mother, and he had some good friends. Unlike Fullmetal, though, that was it. He had no one blood-related to him left in this world.

When he died, that would be the end of his bloodline.

He never took the time to consider this—really, he never had the time. With all the work he did in the military, all the people he watched over, every movement he made as he made his bid for the greatest seat of power in the land… He really should have listened to Hughes.

The idiot had always joked and prodded at him about finding a suitable wife, but he never really thought his peer put any stock in his teasing. It didn't occur to him until now—all this time after the man's death—that maybe his friend was really looking out for him.

Maybe that would be his purpose now. To find a wife, but—maybe more importantly—have children to carry on his bloodline. Better than that, have children he could raise himself. Raise right. It both frightened and excited him, the possibility of being a father. To have another life directly in his hands, to be solely responsible for how that soul lived out its life.

The closest thing he had to that was Fullmetal, but that was beside the point.

When he thought of all of this, and when he then thought of Riza, everything slowly started making sense.

Why he kept her around, why he needed for her to be kept around. Why it was that when all of his subordinates were moved out, he was fine. He thought about it and found a way around it, but when they transferred Riza he felt—no, he knew—it was a personal attack on him. All of the fighting and when had he shed tears? When it was Riza's life on the line—when he thought he was going to lose her.

He had never felt so scared in his life.

And that was a hard thing to admit. That he, Roy Mustang, had felt fear. Had nearly shed a tear at watching her slowly die before his very eyes.

He realized, though, what it meant. As he listened to her sleep every night, occasionally conversed with her during the day, he knew what path lay before him now. Fraternization laws didn't apply if it was between military personnel and a civilian, after all. Even a discharged, ex-military civilian.

All those odd looks between them, all that uncertainty, every time he hesitated to say anything for fear of compromising his stature—damn it all now. It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was the fact that she was here, and his feelings were as real as they could be. And every time he thought of her face—the face he would never be able to see again—it all came rushing back.

He couldn't waste his days feeling sorry for the career he lost when he had something so much more real right in front of him.

"Sir?"

Roy nearly jumped out of his skin, her voice like a sudden cymbal crash in the eerily silent room. What had woken her up?

"What is it?" he asked quietly, and then, as an afterthought, "And you don't need to address me as 'Sir' anymore. I'm being discharged, in case you hadn't heard."

"Old habit," she muttered, pausing before speaking what was on her mind at such an odd hour. "What's going to happen to us?"

"What's going to happen… to who?" he asked uncertainly. He heard her shift in her bed, causing the springs to creak under her weight.

"The team," she answered. "Breda and Falman. Havoc and Fuery. Me."

"I imagine you all will continue to follow my example," he answered easily, although the question was anything but. "You all signed up for the military for your own reasons, so you all can fall back on those. At the most, I would like to think I influenced how you go about things, but my presence isn't necessary for everyone's progression." It stung a bit to admit it, but it was true.

She made no response to this, and after a while Roy assumed she had fallen asleep. Perhaps his words had done their job and allowed his—his former lieutenant enough peace of mind to doze off again. Yet, he wasn't surprised when—after nearly half an hour—she spoke up again.

"Can I call you by your name again now?" she whispered, and Roy felt the weight of the words as they echoed and died off in the small room.

"Yes," he answered, equally quiet.

"Roy, I have a confession to make, although I don't think it will surprise you," she explained and he heard her shift again, it sounded like she was standing up. "I joined the military to watch you. To make sure my father's flame alchemy wasn't abused. Without you, maybe the others can continue on, but I'll have no purpose there."

"Of course you will," he answered, maybe a little too quickly, as he could sense her disappointment at the words. "Your grandfather's the fuehrer; you should be right at home in the military. Besides, a job's a job, and you certainly have the skills for this job. Why waste all of that just because I can't be there?

"And if you're that worried about the flame alchemy, then I promise you I won't simply vanish. I'm not so stupid as to trick myself into believing that cutting all ties from the military will help me adjust to my new civilian life. Most of my friends are military, for one thing. You can keep an eye on me still—I mean, we are friends, so we'll be in touch, right?" he stumbled towards the end, not sure how exactly to address her concerns about him.

"It won't be the same," she answered in short. He nodded, even knowing she couldn't see him.

"I never said it would be."

He heard her feet glide across the floor, her restlessness getting the better of her as she started fidgeting around the room. He should yell at her to get back in bed and relax, not to re-open her wound, but he knew how it felt to feel trapped and caged, especially now. Hell, he would wander around the whole hospital if not for fear of falling down a flight of stairs.

Finally, after checking nearly everything in the room, including for a brief moment the door, she made her way over to his bed. He heard the scratch of a chair being dragged over so she could sit down comfortably next to him.

"Sitting there won't help you sleep," he spoke softly, not really wanting her to go back to sleep and leave him alone in the dark once more.

"You never know," she answered, and he felt her lean against the bed, presumably resting her arms and head on the mattress.

"Lieutenant, I have another solution for your dilemma," he whispered after a long moment, thinking she might have fallen asleep after all.

"Hmm?" she mumbled.

"Marry me."

He only heard silence at this, but he could sense the difference of this silence compared to the normal quiet when she was sleeping. There was a weight, a magnitude to this.

"What are you talking about?" she asked sternly. "We can't—."

"But we can," he interrupted. "Riza, I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I have—for a long time now—and with my discharge that means we _can_. If you want to." He heard her choke out a sob and jumped in alarm, reaching out cautiously yet frantically for her, frustrated at his inability to simply see her and know.

His hands found her shoulders and he gave them a reassuring squeeze, only to feel her stand up and lean towards him.

"I can't—," she cut herself off as another sob wracked her body. "I can't do that without apologizing first, and I can never apologize enough for what I did."

"What you did?" he echoed in surprise. "What are you talking about Lieutenant?"

"If I hadn't been so weak, Sir, you wouldn't have to give everything up," she whispered harshly, angry with herself. "You can't just trade one dream for another like it doesn't even matter."

"I can, actually," he corrected, using a more firm tone of voice, knowing he couldn't through to her otherwise. "That's my choice, and don't think for a minute that I'm trading in being fuehrer for a second place consolation prize. I'll still help people—that's what being fuehrer was about in the first place—but now I can do it with something I couldn't have otherwise. You."

"How can you accept it so easily?" she demanded. "All that hard work—everyone who sacrificed for you."

"It's not easy," he growled. "But it's something I have to do. If I don't move on—if I stay here and wallow in misery, then what good will I be to anyone?"

"But, Sir—!"

"Answer this question: do you love me?" he demanded, still gripping her shoulders, refusing to let go.

"Are you stupid?" she replied sharply.

"Answer the damn question, Riza."

"Of course!" she cried. "If I didn't love you do you honestly think I would've followed you this far?"

"Then what the hell's the problem?" he asked, doing his best to stare her down, although his blindness coupled with the darkness made it a fairly pointless endeavor.

"How can you forgive me?" she whispered, as if the whole thing had been her fault.

"There's nothing to forgive," he answered easily. "You didn't do this to me—you did everything you could to stop it. We both did, but this is how it ended up. Why should we suffer, when so many people are happy now because of our sacrifices? Can't we enjoy this world too?"

Instead of answering him, he felt her lean forward, and then he felt her lips on his, her hands clenching his shirt happily. He let his arms drop down to her waist and lifted her onto his lap, gently working his own lips.

"Yes," she whispered the moment they broke apart.


	13. EdWin III

**A/N: **_Hey people! Enjoying the fluff? Great! Well, for Athenaphrodite and because I don't think we've had enough EdWin, here you go!_

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><p><em><strong>Kissing Games:<strong>_

_Love and Longevity_

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><p>Winry glanced over at her husband as they silently ate dinner. She had to bring something up with him, but this was <em>Ed <em>she was thinking of, how was she supposed to bring anything serious up with him? Not that he didn't act serious when he needed to, but she just hated that look he got on his face, like all the pain of all those years just crashes down on him.

Even if it was about something totally unrelated. A cry echoed down the stairs and Ed quickly jumped up to go check on his young son.

Maybe it wasn't totally unrelated.

Ed had surprised her, in more ways than one, since they'd been married. He was surprisingly gentle in all things concerning her, and when she mentioned wanting to have children, it had made him hesitant. They had enough money, they had no fear of being attacked, all in all they lived a good life, but still he had hesitated.

Winry understood _why_ but she wasn't sure she could ever understand the true extent of it. Ed was afraid, like any expecting father should be, but he was afraid for different reasons than most.

The responsibility registered with him, she was sure, but he had taken care of himself and his brother since they were still boys. Another life to watch over was hefty, but really not something he hadn't already faced. No, his fear came from a still burning scar left in the memories of his childhood.

Hohenheim.

His father walking out on their mother, and he didn't see the man again until after his mother had died. He knew that his father had been off trying to save Amestris from the same fate Xerxes had suffered, but that didn't change the fact that he had left him.

It was unforgivable. To be sent on a journey through hell because Hohenheim hadn't been there to stop them, or maybe all they had really needed was someone to comfort them.

Winry had done her best, of course, but there was only so much she could do. The boys had their own ideas, and as Pinako pointed out to her, she couldn't have done anymore than she had, because she blamed herself for what happened to them just as much as they blamed themselves. Not that she came right out and said it. That would just make them mad.

After many drawn out conversations and a few choice arguments, Winry had finally managed to get it through Ed's head: He's not his father.

Everything was perfect for a while (although Ed complained that her mood swings nearly killed him on several occasions), and when the time came to give birth, Winry was totally ready. Initially everything started out fine, it seemed like it would be a perfect birth. She locked eyes with Ed as she watched the slowly growing pride and joy dawn on his face.

Then something went wrong.

Something twisted that shouldn't have or someone did something they shouldn't have… no one knew what went wrong afterwards, all they knew at the time was that Winry was suddenly in intense pain—pain that went beyond just giving birth. She grasped Ed's hand so hard he thought she was going to break it.

Then the doctor and nurses started yelling and panicking, and even though Ed would never admit it now, it was obvious the effect it had on him. He was scared, terrified, mortified at the thought of losing everything dear to him again. How many times did he have to suffer before he could live without fear?

Through a long and scary night, somehow, likely through some miracle, Winry and the baby had both survived to see the next day. Ed had cried in relief, holding back the tears until the doctors had left and the baby had fallen asleep.

It had pained Winry to see him sob like that, look so broken and afraid.

She blamed herself for it, but as he pointed out later, it was no one's fault. Sometimes things like that just happened, unfortunately, but the important thing was they were all three alive and well. A year passed in this fashion, but then Winry thought of something.

She had always wanted a sibling. Ed and Al were the closest she had growing up, and she had seen firsthand the value of having a big brother to count on. So she brought it up with Ed one day, stating her reasons as calmly and surely as possible, but Ed—as predicted—had shut down as soon as he heard the idea.

"No," he cut her off, not waiting for her to finish. "We're not going through that again."

"Ed it was a one-time thing; you can't be afraid it's going to happen every time," she had reasoned.

"How many damn kids do you want?" he growled, slouching on the couch and avoiding her gaze.

"That's not the point," she reasoned. "The point is I want him to at least have one little brother or sister, and I would think you of all people would understand how valuable it is to have a little sibling to watch over."

"It's hard work," he muttered. "And it's not worth it." Winry had wanted so badly to hit him for saying that—imagine how hurt Al would have been if he'd heard his big brother say such things! But she knew, as much as she struggled to _understand _why he refused.

"Ed you can't let your fear control you like this," she whispered, walking over and taking a seat next to him.

"I'm not afraid," he defended on reflex.

"You are," she insisted. "You're afraid everything's going to happen just like it did last time. You're afraid we're going to leave our son to grow up on his own, just like you had to."

He jolted out of his seat and made to leave the room, not bothering to respond to this. She didn't see him for the rest of the day, but she assumed he had just wanted someplace quiet to think things over. Every time she tried to bring it up, though, he shot her down. It had gotten to the point where he could almost tell when she was going to mention it and made himself scarce.

Now she heard him comforting his son softly, and she waited until he returned a while later to bring it up again. It was senseless for him to be so afraid, and it wasn't like him at all.

"Is he sleeping?" she asked as he returned to his seat.

"Yeah," he answered, smiling gently. "Little guy's totally out of it." Winry felt herself smile in response.

"That's good." They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Winry finished her meal and started to clean up while Ed continued eating his neglected (and probably cold) dinner.

"Hey, Ed," she started. "I've been thinking—."

"If this is about what I think it's about, then you already know my answer," he said quickly, cutting her off.

"You can't be afraid like this forever," she whispered. "How do you explain that to him when he's old enough to understand? Will you tell him you were too afraid and that's why he doesn't have a little brother or sister?"

"He doesn't need to know that's why," Ed growled, refusing to look up at her.

"So you'd rather lie to him?" she whispered. This time Ed did look up, anger brewing in his fierce golden eyes—the same eyes he shared with his own son now.

"I'd be protecting him from the fact that his dad's a coward, how about that?" he demanded, slamming his fist on the table.

"You're not a coward, Ed," Winry placated, struggling to keep a calm tone. "It's okay to be afraid that something could go wrong, but Ed, something could _always _go wrong. We could be walking one day and just fall over dead for no reason. Just like there wasn't a reason for the complications the first time."

"Yeah something always could—don't you think I of all people would know that?" he shouted, food totally forgotten now. "Why increase the chances?"

"Because you of all people should also know something about risking everything for a better future," she countered, her own voice rising in response. "How would you feel if Al was never born? Do you honestly think you would've made it through everything you did without him?"

"Of course not!" he yelled, jolting out of his seat. "I wouldn't trade Al for the world!"

"So why take that opportunity away from your own son?" she demanded angrily. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath, and turned and walked out. "Where in the world are you going Ed?" she demanded, chasing after him.

"To talk to mom."

She stopped dead in her tracks and watched as he exited the house and made his way down the darkening road. Letting out a sigh, she returned to the kitchen to clean up the remaining dinner mess, and then she made her way upstairs to relax for a little while. No point in chasing after him now.

Groggily she rolled out of bed a few hours later, mentally cursing herself for falling asleep while Ed was out. She had planned on waiting up for him to return. An odd habit of theirs, maybe, but they promised to never fall asleep mad at each other.

However, she quickly realized that she hadn't missed him at all—he hadn't come home yet. She hurried off to the baby's room, but he was sleeping peacefully. Grandma was still in her room, snoring lightly. Winry tip-toed outside and jogged towards the graveyard. It wasn't like Ed to stay out this late, even if he was mad.

She slowed to a walk as she approached the gates, noticing they were still open. She quietly made her way to where they had buried Trisha and Hohenheim both, only to see Ed still sitting there. Had he fallen asleep out here? But as she approached, she could hear his voice as it drifted towards her, a reserved, thoughtful tone to it.

"Dad, I wish you could see him," he whispered. "We named him after you, can you believe that? I named my own son after you, you bastard.

"I wish you could see the way he smiles and gurgles and _looks_. He has golden eyes, just like you and me and Al. I guess that Xerxes blood is kind of dominate huh? Everyone says he looks a lot like me, but I wonder if they ever said that about you. Al always looked like Mom, so I guess it makes sense. I guess he doesn't look like me so much as he looks like you, huh?

"Winry wants another one, which would be great and all but… What if something happens to her? I don't know shit about raising kids. She doesn't get it, but raising ourselves after Mom died was a lot different than taking care of my own kids.

"You know I still hate you. A lot. But I kind of have to admire your strength, because I think—I know, somewhere deep down, you felt the same sense of obligation I have towards my son. I'll never know how much it hurt you to leave us. Not that it was a good thing—I think it's good you felt a lot of guilt, bastard. But what do I do Dad? How do I tell Winry that I'm not just afraid of the kids or what they'll have to go through…

"I'm afraid of losing her. "

"Ed?" Winry interrupted, causing him to jump, despite the softness of her voice.

"How long have you been standing there?" he grouched, standing up and brushing himself off, back to his usual attitude, although there was something much more forced about it now.

"Long enough," she answered. "I'm not going to leave you, Ed. Not after all that time I spent waiting for you to come home."

"You can't promise that," he whispered. "I believed that _once _in my life. Once was enough."

"What happened to your mother was horrible—bad luck, really," Winry answered, knowing very well what he was talking about, even without a name. "But we can't live our lives now in fear of what happened yesterday."

"That's easy for you to say," he responded, walking towards her. He had just taken a step pass her when she thought of something—the only way she could think to get through to him.

"You said you were going to talk to your mom," she whispered, turning to see him frozen in his path. "I think the fact that you came up here to talk to your dad says a lot about what you believe. I think it says you're not really so afraid of forgiving the past. So why not try?"

"I talked to Mom first," he answered softly, turning to look at her. "That bastard's about as much help as he was when he was alive, though, so I figured it couldn't hurt anything."

"Ed—?"

"Winry," he interrupted, grabbing her hands in his own. "Look me in the eye and promise you won't leave me." She immediately looked him in the eye, but felt herself pause before she could actually say anything. It was a serious request, not one to be taken lightly, especially not coming from him.

"I will _never _leave you," she answered at last. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, releasing her hands only to lock her in an embrace. Winry could feel all the tension, the doubt, drain out as they worked their lips together.

"I love you," he whispered. "And that's why I'll try; I won't let my fear deprive my son of something I relied on so much myself."

"No telling it'll be a little brother," she commented, smiling gently at him. "Come on, it's late. Let's go home."


End file.
